The End of the Begining
by Saitaina R. Moricia
Summary: Neville is the world's new hero, but is he ready to face those that betrayed him?-Part 12 is up!-A date in Diagon Alley turns bad, Draco is coming close to choosing between the one he loves, and the one he loved, and Dennis faces a hero's past.
1. An Ending And a Begining

Chapter One: An Ending...and a Beginning

_"What does 'Savior of the World' do, when he's saved the world?"_

-"Shades of Grey", Shadowphoenix

Neville stood on the hill, staring out over the thick black smoke of thousands of bonfires. Wizards everywhere danced and rejoiced, the final defeat of the Dark Lord. Families gathered, friends embraced, and lovers kissed, sharing in the joy of the freedom of their world. Neville looked down at the wooden box in his hand, the last resting place of the spirit, the soul of Tom Riddle. The parchment that had given the words that sucked the very essence of Voldemort from his body had fallen away, crumpled and forgotten, no longer important in the scheme of life.

He shook his head and headed back down the hill towards the main gathering of tents and wizards, self conscious as strangers embraced him and shook his hand. He almost felt relieved as he passed Draco and received just a nod, the blond man far too busy to stop and congratulate the new hero.

Neville paused by one campfire, watching the gathered family mourn the loss of their child, their pain a near visible cloud around them. He lowered his head and said a silent prayer for the lost soul with them before moving on, noticing many families in mourning. So many lives lost this night. Many unknown to him, but also many he cared for. The Boy Who Lived, no longer did so. Instead Harry Potter lay amid the mass of bodies that the Resistance had gathered, waiting to be buried. Ron was somewhere among those bodies, along with most of his fellow Gryffindors. Several Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs could also be seen, their robes torn and stained with the blood of war. He closed his eyes tightly as he passed the wall of bodies, wishing he didn't constantly see their faces imprinted onto his lids.

He opened his eyes only when the sounds of the Resistance workers faded from his hearing and took in the sight that greeted him. Green smoke hung heavy here, marks of past battles that had raged for weeks. The camp was mostly deserted, the Death Eaters that still lived having fled as soon as they saw their master perish. Only a scant handful of people remained. Prisoners, families of those that died, children abandoned by both mother and father, left to wander around amid the chaos that was left in their trail. He paused next to a silk tent that had once housed Voldemort himself and struggled against the emotions that suddenly overwhelmed him, gripping the main pole for support. Here, somewhere in the darkness lay the body of his hero, his idol. Here amid the green smoke that held everybody's fears lay the body of Percy Weasley.

Percy. A simple name, sweet and light. A name that rolled off you're tongue like chocolate. Too simple a name for such a complex man. Percy Weasley had spend his life trying to be perfect. And when the realization came that he couldn't be, that he'd never be...well saying he snapped didn't quite cover it. Lost his mind was more apt to describe what occurred.

Neville still remembered the day the owl came. A small, simple looking owl, no real distinguishing features, had landed in front of him, a small piece of parchment tied to his leg. He had taken the letter with shaky hands, confusion coursing through him as he read the words. One sentence, one line, no explanation and thousands of questions. 'I've gone to join You-Know-Who,' it had read. Simple, plain and yet that one sentence had changed his life forever. Or would it have just changed his life for this night...who knows.

He was torn out of his thoughts by the sound of crying. Neville followed the harsh sobs, wondering who was left on the Dark Side to make such a sound. These weren't the cries of a child who had lost their parents, nor were they the sound of a spouse whom had lost the love of their life. These were the anguished cries of a soul that had done something terribly wrong and just realized it.

He walked around the tent he had been standing next to and saw them. One boy and a girl huddled together. Not far from them lay the body of their friend, his face barely recognizable with all the injuries. The girl was crying, no, sobbing into the chest of the boy who held her. Crying to cleanse her soul of what she had done. He knelt next to them, putting a hand on Crabbe's shoulder. Crabbe looked up, tears staining his own face. They stared at each other for a long moment before Crabbe shifted, allowing the other boy to take Pansy from him. Neville stood, the girl tucked safely into his arms. He stared at Crabbe for a moment before offering as much a hand he could to the bigger boy whom accepted it, pulling himself up. Crabbe then slung his best friend's body over his shoulder and the group slowly made their way out of the darkness of the camp, into the light of the bonfires. People stared as their hero carried one of the enemies to his tent, but a handful understood. Sometimes it wasn't a choice of Right or Wrong you were allowed to make, but a choice of when you died.

Draco waited for them inside the tent, still nursing a broken leg, but more then ready to help those that had been his friend. As he took Pansy from the man carrying her, he looked at him, unsure of whether to ask.

"Go on Malfoy, ask your question," he said, laying the wooden box on a table before sitting back on the cot that had served him well these weeks.

"D...did you find him?"

"No. But I know he's out there, I watched him fall."

"Mr. Weasley wants you to take care of the burial, said you would have had a better idea of what he wanted."

Neville nodded, closing his eyes. "Tomorrow I will look again, be sure Albus knows we found three more students, and that they're not to be arrested."

Draco nodded, pulling a blanket up around the younger man. Draco sighed softly, watching him fall asleep, Neville's hard expression melting into the familiar youthful face. He turned to see to his former friends, ignoring the questions in their eyes, though he knew he couldn't ignore them much longer.

As it happened, he was more right then he knew, for no more had he thought the thought then Crabbe found his voice. "You're working for them."

Pansy hit him weakly, indicating he had topped his record of stupidest comments.

"Yes," Draco said simply, splinting Pansy's leg.

"Why?"

Draco paused in his work, looking up at him. "Because they offered me something my father and Lord Voldemort couldn't."

"What's that?"

"My life."

That silenced Crabbe. He knew what Draco had meant by that. He had seen so many die in this war, many that had no place in it to begin with.

"What will they do with us now?" Pansy asked softly, voicing the concerns that had been on many of the found Slytherin's minds that night.

"You will stay here in camp while the Resistance clears out the lingering threats and then we will all return to our lives."

"What?! They can't...they wouldn't...they should imprison us or kill us or something..."

"Do you wish that much for death?"

Pansy lowered her head. "We hurt so many...killed some..."

"And none of us did it by choice. We were born into this war, we did not have the luxury of choosing sides."

Pansy grew silent, mulling over Draco's words. In the silence that enveloped them they could hear the sounds of celebration and mourning outside. If given the choice, would they have fought the good fight? Or would they have still been where they were, carrying the Dark Mark for their master. Maybe it was better that they had never had the choice, maybe it was easier to live life, not knowing the answer to that question.

Lucius blinked and pulled his scarf tighter around his face, trying to shield himself from the cold wind that burned his eyes. He glanced around, the last few remaining Death Eaters gathered around him, their brooms wavering a bit, giving voice to their exhaustion.

Peter shifted uneasily in his seat, his beady eyes casting about the group before settling back on Lucius. He was once more a wizard lost. His ally, the one he thought would never fall, was gone, and now he was left behind once more, left to try to fend for himself. Peter didn't like fending for himself. He liked having stronger, more powerful 'friends' to look out for him, even if it meant licking their boots and playing the humble servant.

Lucius' cold grey eyes resting on Peter for a long moment before he shook his head. Lucius wasn't one to trust others, especially not some sniveling, conniving worm who lived only to find the next big bad bully on the block. You never knew when that person would stab you in the back, as James Potter had found out.

"Our Master is dead!" Lucius called out, his voice carrying on the wind. A few of the Death Eaters made mumbled comments, some cursing the Resistance, some more worried mumbles of what to do now, and there was at least one comment about trying to rescue the box.

Lucius shook his head at all of this. "Our Master is gone, there is nothing we can do for him now, but we can do for us." The Death Eaters looked at him, confused, wondering where he was going with this.

Lucius grinned at them. "We are small, but we are still powerful, we shall prepare, and soon, soon not even those pathetic fools can stop us from fulfilling our Master's glorious plan. Our cause is not yet lost, this is just a moment of respite, a time to recharge and refuel before we squash their pathetic attempts to defy us under our heel."

The last few Death Eaters cheered, too stupid and tired to see the folly of only five taking on multitudes. Lucius looked over his new soldiers with a critical eye. He would not fail where Voldemort had. He would be the new leader of a new order. He would succeed.

Remus knelt on the dark floor of the purple tent, running his fingers oh so lightly over the leg in front of his before shaking his head and picking up bandages, wrapping them carefully around Dumbledore's leg, carefully tying off the ends, watching as blood stained the white cloth. "You should see Pomfrey for this, sir," he said, looking up into the older man's face.

Dumbledore waved his concern away. "She has enough to deal with, as do the medi-wizards from St. Mungo's," he said, trying. "I will not burden them with a simple cut."

Remus snorted. "Simple cut he says, when I could have swore I saw bone and muscle."

Dumbledore just smiled, finally rising and making his way to his bed, collapsing gratefully onto it. "I will get it checked out later," he mumbled into his pillow before turning his head, looking at Remus. "Why are you not out there, celebrating with the rest of the people?"

"I'm not sure it's right...to celebrate. We did that before and look what it got us."

"Our celebrations did not bring him back Remus, a bit of joy is to be expected. He is truly gone this time."

"Yes, but it doesn't bring back those we lost does it?"

"No, and we will grieve for them. For Lily and James, for Sirius and Harry, for everyone we have lost both now and before. But right now, enjoy the freedom we have fought for. Be happy tonight Remus, that's what they would have wanted," Snape said from the doorway, running a hand over his bald head.

Remus turned too look at him, before looking down at the sleeping Dumbledore, placing a gentle kiss on the older man's cheek. "I have to watch over him, his wound..."

"Go, get drunk, howl at the moon, whatever you werewolves do," Snape said, ushering the former professor out of the tent. "Just do something."

Remus looked at Snape before embracing him tightly. "Don't die on me Snape," he whispered. "I can't stand to lose any more people, even an enemy."

Snape laughed and kissed Remus' cheek. "I don't have plans to die any time soon Lupin," he said before going to Dumbledore's side.

Remus shook his head and left the tent, letting the sounds of celebration wash over him.

Percy crawled out of his tent, gasping, choking on the smoke that crowded the air. The Resistance had set fire to the Death Eater camp, not caring who may lay inside the tents, still living. Percy had been unconscious for a time but now he was crawling for his life, trying to escape before the fires consumed him as they had Nott. His hand convulsed around his wand, snapping it and he collapsed on the earth, darkness eating at his vision.

As he gave into the darkness, into death, he could have swore he saw a blonde boy staring down at him, lips moving soundlessly. "Neville," he whispered softly, reaching out, trying to embrace the boy. His hand fell aside as he passed out.

Draco brushed a lock of red hair from Percy's face, running a finger through the soot on the older man's cheek. "I have no clue what he sees in you," Draco whispered softly before standing and levitating Percy, heading back to the medical tents, pausing to smack him into a few tent poles before continuing on his way.

Snape stood at the window of Dumbledore's tent, watching the celebrations outside, wrapping his arms around his chest, huddled in his robes. He had never imagined he would be back here, fighting. He was too weak, too sick to imagine himself here.

Cancer. It was a word that invoked the same fear in the wizarding world that it did in the Muggle world. And Snape was cursed with it. In the middle of the war, he found a new battle to fight, one that would keep him on the sidelines of St. Mungo's for months to come.

Snape was so lost in his thoughts of his own, personal battle that he didn't hear the shuffling behind him, didn't notice the Headmaster had awakened until Albus put a hand on his shoulder. Snape looked up, blinking away the tears that had come to his eyes, looking at the blurry image of the Headmaster. "You should be resting,"

"And you should still be in a hospital bed," Dumbledore said wearily, squeezing Snape's shoulder before taking a seat in his favorite squashy armchair. "Neither of us ever does what we should."

Snape gave a small smile and sat at Dumbledore's feet, leaning back against the legs behind him, resting his head on Dumbledore's lap. Dumbledore placed a shaky hand on Snape's bald head, sighing softly. "I miss your hair..you had beautiful hair," he said softly.

Snape smiled sadly, memories of the loss of his hair flickering through his mind. "It'll grow back."

Dumbledore nodded, glancing to the window, to the destruction outside. "It'll all grow back," he said softly, closing his eyes, weariness taking him again.

Harry ran a hand gently over his former face before turning to look at the crowd of surviving witches and wizards, watching them getting drunk on the victory they held. "It's not over..." he whispered.


	2. Rebuilding

Chapter Two: Rebuilding

_The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning.-- Ivy Baker Priest_

Neville laid back on his cot, stairing at the ceiling of his tent, blinking in the hazy gloom of midnight. After waking from his all too short nap, he had lay there, listening to the silence surrounding the Resistance camp. It was something of a heart lifting moment to listening to the silence, to know that the war was over. He smiled, the first smile in a long time and let the silence sink into him, feeling it heal his emotional wounds. All too soon the silence was interrupted when Draco pushed open the tent flap and peered into the dark. "Neville?"

"I'm awake," he said softly, sighing. He swung his feet over the edge of the cot and sat up, massaging his temples. He finally looked up at Draco, curious by the older boy's silence. He was nearly struck down when he saw the expression on the Slytherin's face. "What..what is it? Please don't tell me they've started it all over again.."

Draco shook his head wordlessly, unsure how to say what he needed to. "We..They.." He licked his lips and decided to just say it. "He's been found Neville..alive."

* * *

Neville stroke quickly through the camp, nearly running in his haste. Alive. He couldn't have ever hoped to hear those words uttered. Alive. So sweet to hear, but heartbreaking just the same. So few precious moments to spend with the man that had shaped his world. He pushed the tend flap forcibly aside and hurried in, ignoring the guards that watched over the captured Death Eaters. He sat on the hard floor next to a cot and took the pale hand that lay over the edge into his own, kissing it gently. The prisoner groaned, his eyes slowly opening, stairing above him.

"Percy, can you hear me?"

The figure was still for a moment before nodding, barley a movement really, but Neville saw it and he pressed on.

"Percy, I love you." He whispered.

* * *

3 Years ago...

* * *

The Yule Ball was in full swing. Neville lead Ginny over to a table and sat down with her, wincing as she immediately took off her shoes and started massaging her feet, watching Harry and Ron talk. Neville gave her and apologetic smile and turned to glance around the room. He watched Dumbledore dance with Sprout, smiling shyly when Dumbledore waved at him. He raised his hand in a half hearted wave back, his attention drifting soon after and he watched the various teachers dancing with their various partners. Some, looking thrilled and others, like Snape, looking down right murderous.

His eyes drifted over the judges as well, wondering how Harry was going to do in the next task. He hoped he did well, it was such fun watching him trounce the other school's champions. He secretly wished he was brave enough to do the tasks himself, but seeing as how that would only happen if Draco grew a heart and soul..well, at least someone from Gryffindor was competing.

His roaming gaze soon rested on a young red haired boy and he smiled to himself. Percy Weasley. He could find that boy blindfolded in a dark room. Percy exuded an air of ridgedness and stuffiness that everyone picked up on, but underneath, hidden behind the rules and protocol was a self-consciousness that Neville could identify with.

A need to prove yourself to others that no one else could understand. While Percy tried to be perfect in a family that he thought expected it, Neville just tried to survive in a world that threatened to drown him. But tonight, tonight was different. Tonight there was something else that drew his wandering eye to the older boy. Tonight there was something that made him stand and ask the red-haired man to take a walk with him.

* * *

Present

* * *

Neville smiled to himself as he remembered that walk they had shared. A simple walk that had ended in a not so simple kiss. That memory had kept him going through the long periods of no owls. Through the long nights of studying, through the long days of fighting against Voldemort for the simple truths he believed in. There were other walks of course. Other times that he had shared with the man that now lay injured before him. Other precious moments that he kept safe inside, locked in a box in his mind marked, Precious and Safe. But the one memory, that first kiss, was what he treasured most. In a world falling down around him, it was the only thing that kept him sane. And now, it was the one thing, likely to destroy him. He kissed Percy's hand again before kneeling and kissing Percy's lips. He stood and strode briskly out of the tent, wiping his eyes with his sleeve before heading into the smaller tend next to it and looking at Draco who waited. "Kill him." He whispered before heading out again, towards his own tent, tears flowing faster down his face.

* * *

Two months had passed and the remaining students put away their Resistance robes, threw away their battle spell books, and returned to their civilian lives at Hogwarts. Everything seemed normal again, but the emotional and physical scars were still fresh, the seats of missing students still a reminder of what they had been through, what they had lost. It was finally, at Hermione's suggestion, that they combined all four houses together, making one complete house. The empty chairs and beds in the Gryffindor Tower were finally filled, save for one.

* * *

Dumbledore sighed as he pushed open the door to the West Tower. This was the only tower in the whole of Hogwarts that had a window facing the battle sight. He had often found students up here, stairing dismally at the wreckage, often crying. He made a mental note to talk to Pomfrey and McGonagall about getting more medi wizards to help with the student counseling for those that had lost loved ones. He followed the weak beam of light to the window sill. Seated on the large ledge was a small blond boy, stairing out the window silently.

Dumbledore moved closer, wondering what to say when suddenly Neville spoke.

"I've lost them all now."

Dumbledore sat on the ledge with him, feet dangling in the cool breeze. "Not yet you haven't, he can still recover."

"Only if he wants to."

"He does."

"I wanted so badly to kill him....does that make me as evil as him?"

"No, it makes you human."

"I'm sorry I missed Defense Against the Dark Arts,"

"It's alright, it was quite boring anyway, just a history of the Kelpie."

"Oh."

"Potions next?"

Neville nodded. "Yup."

"You should hurry, I hear Snape is making a special potion today, a favorite of mine, you won't want to miss it."

Neville looked up at Dumbledore. "Will things ever be the same?"

"Oh I hope not, otherwise what's the point of a year long battle? Hurry to class young Neville."

Neville nodded and slid off the ledge, hurrying from the room to make it to class on time. Dumbledore sighed again and looked out the window silently before pushing himself up and heading towards the door. Maybe he should get some help for the teachers as well.

* * *

Draco stared at the curtained ceiling of his bed, listening to the other 7th year boys sleep, well, most of them. The absence of Neville's familiar snoring indicated he was also lying awake. Tears flowed slowly down Draco's face as he raised his wand, and added another bit of green to the painting on the curtained ceiling of his bed. He had been working on the painting secretly at night, ever since his return to Hogwarts, hoping have it completed before the graduation feast. Harry's smiling face looked down at the former Slytherin and Draco had to smile back. Harry was going to be the best guardian Gryffindor Tower had seen in a great long while.

* * *

St. Mungo's-

* * *

Neville sighed, placing his hands flat on the table in front of him, trying to keep them from shaking. He stared at his fingers, noticing that they were stained from his potions homework and his quill. He stared harder at them, trying to find something, anything on them that would keep him from looking up at the boy, the man sitting across from him.

Percy watched Neville carefully, though his face betrayed no emotion, his long red hair flowing down over his shoulders, blowing softly in the faint breeze from the hall.

Neville felt Percy's eyes on him and finally he looked up, stairing hard into those brown orbs that once held so much love, and now held nothing. "Why won't you talk to me Percy? I can't help you if you won't open your mouth."

Percy remained silent, stoic, refusing to back down from the challenge, but refusing to speak either. It was the way these visits always went, and had gone since Neville retracted Percy's sentence of death and sent him here. The same silence was broken only by Neville's voice, the same looks, the same tears, and the same heartache. Neville had had enough of it.

"I'm leaving Percy. Our time is up." Neville stood, pulling on his cloak, his back to his lover. "Only, I'm not coming back. I can't, not again." He bit his lip before squaring his shoulders and walking to the door, hand grasping the knob firmly.

"It's not over." The voice was harsh, weak with disuse, but it echoed in the silent room. "This is only the eye of the storm."

Neville turned and looked at Percy, still sitting in his seat, shoulders hunched slightly. Neville turned and walked out the door calmly, letting it shut before he took off in a run.

* * *

Surrey-

* * *

"Uncle Peter?" A soft voice called, breaking Peter Pettigrew from his thoughts. He looked up to find his young niece standing in the doorway, framed by the fading sun.

"Come in Monica, there is someone I wish you to meet."

Monica walked carefully into the library of her Uncle's home, stepping gingerly over the volumes of books littering the floor. Seated in a chair next to her uncle was a tall, pale man with silver blonde hair that shone in the last few rays of the sun.

"Monica, this is Mr. Lucius Malfoy."

The 15-year-old curtseyed to the man and gasped when he seized her wrist. A burning pain shot up her arm, closing her throat till near the point of suffocation before surging into her heart, stopping it, freezing the moment in her mind as she sunk to her knees. Lucius released her arm, letting the girl fall away to the floor, gasping and clutching at her forearm. She slowly, weakly raised it to her sight and stared at the skull looking back at her, mocking her.

* * *

Draco sat on his bed, putting his head in his hands, taking a deep breath, pushing his finger back into his hair, gripping the strands before slowly exhaling. He reached down under his bed and pulled out a small chest, running a finger over the top before flipping the latch, smiling as he took out a small black pin. He ran a thumb over the glowing words. "Potter Stinks," he whispered, smiling a bit more at the memories that floated back to him.

He latched the box and slid it back under the bed, before falling back onto his mattress, fingers running over and over the badge, allowing the memories to wash over him, tears sliding slowly down his cheeks as he let the past play before him. He stiffened as his bed dipped before glancing at the blond next to him.

Neville pulled his own badge from his pocket, activating it, the words Potter Really Stinks casting a glow across his face. Draco raised an eyebrow before shifting, laying his head on Neville's chest. "I miss him," He said softly.

Neville ran his fingers through the silken strands on his chest absently, nodding. He bit his lip before looking down at Draco's tear stained face. "He misses you too,"

Draco shifted, not looking at Neville as he curled up more. "You know I can't.."

Neville sighed. "I know, but it would make things much easier."

"That it would most definitely not." Draco said. "How could..how could seeing him again make things easier? He's dead Neville, and no matter what comes out of his mouth, I can't love him as a ghost."

"I know that, Draco." Neville said softly. "But closure would help,"

Draco moved closer to the warmth of Neville's body, curling around him. "I just can't face him, Nev. He's a ghost, a beautiful, charming, loving, but still very dead ghost. And it would hurt too much to even attempt it."

Neville set his badge on the bed, wiping the tears from Draco's cheek. "I know, belive me, I know," he said softly. "And I won't force you to see him." He kissed Draco's cheek softly. "I just want you to smile again. I love you, you know."

"I know." Draco said and smiled at Neville, holding him close, tears still falling.

Neville held Draco close as the other boy slowly exhausted himself, falling into a dreamless slumber. He yawned himself and felt his eyes drift closed, hoping they would both smile again.

* * *

"Albus?" Snape called softly, stepping slowly into the Headmaster's office, leaning heavily on his cane.

Hands soon grabbed his arm and he found himself being lead to the couch, a worried Remus Lupin leading him. He let out a weary sigh as he sank into the familiar cushions, looking up at the werewolf. "Where is he?"

"He'll be back in a moment, he went to chase down a house-elf."

Snape nodded, his eyes closing as he sank back into the seat, exhaustion overcoming him. This was getting far too hard. He had barley made it up from the dungeons.

The door opened and Snape didn't bother opening his eyes, listening as Dumbledore gave soft orders to what was probably the house-elf. He waited until he heard silence and slowly blinked, letting the worried face of his friend come into focus. "Albus,"

Dumbledore moved closer and inspected Snape with a worried glance before shaking his head. "I told you to go back,"

Snape shook his head. "I'd rather die here then trapped in a hospital." He said and gave a weak smile.

Remus growled and sat next to Snape. "That's not cute,"

"I rarely am," Snape awnsered, allowing Remus to pull him into an embrace. "I rarely am." He looked at the Headmaster again, gripping the handle of his cane tighter to stop the shaking in his hand. "I came to speak to you of the potions class, I can't..the fumes are getting to be too much."

Dumbledore nodded, sitting at his desk. "I had planned for this. While we have no one of your..experience I do belive I have someone who can cover for you for the younger students."

Snape thought for a long moment, turning the students over in his head before nodding. "And for the seventh years?"

"Do you really think they need Potions anymore, or any of their current classes?" Remus asked, raising an eyebrow. "Most of them are far beyond caring about their studies anymore. They show up to class just to pretend that they never stopped. They long since learned anything they needed to know and what they didn't, they could find in the library when they need it."

Snape nodded slowly, recognizing the truth. "It's rather foolish, but I do wish it had never come to this."

"We all do," Dumbledore said. "But what's done is done. I have made a decision."

Both men looked up at him, waiting for him to continue, wondering if he was talking about what they had been discussing recently.

"Times are different then they were before. Hogwarts has lost it's place in the world as a school. I think it's time to close her doors." He held up a hand as both men opened their mouths in furious outrage. "Hogwarts is done as a school, but not as a place of learning. I am expanding her use, and Minnie agrees with me. We only have a handful of students left, and many fewer to join her ranks. Our current students are survivors of a war with no where left to go, especially the seventh years. I will announce this tomorrow but I am opening us to anyone who wishes to come here. And anyone who wishes to live here. Young Malfoy and Longbottom have already agreed to stay on, for they have no where left to go and nothing left to do. Several families have also already contacted me, those who lost everything but themselves in the war. They will be arriving soon, and with them come children who need to be taught, and wounds that need to be healed. It's time to start rebuilding, and I think that Hogwarts is the best place to start."

Both men nodded slowly, turning the idea over in their heads. It was a new time, a new world. The wizarding world was in shreds and not as hidden as it once was. There would be Muggles who needed protecting, young children whose powers had awakened to early. People needed shelter as they rebuilt their lives. With the Ministry gone, Hogwarts would once again need to stand. Besides, healing would be easier, when people had someone to share their pain with.


	3. Life Goes On

Chapter Three: Life Goes On...  
  
_Healing is a matter of time, but it is sometimes also a mater of opportunity. -Hippocrates_

* * *

Neville ran a hand through his hair, staring down at the parchment in front of him. He sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, looking out across the Gryffindor common room. Collin Creevey was curled up in a chair, the pearly shine of his hastily wiped tears glinting slightly in the firelight. Neville let out a deep sight again, wishing he could take the boy's pain from him but he couldn't, anymore then he could figure out what to do with his own. As he watched, Draco placed a hand on the younger boy's shoulder and silently lead Collin upstairs to talk.  
  
Neville smiled in spite of himself. Draco had taken a while to come to terms with the fact that others had loved Harry as much as he did, but when the realization had finally struck, he had taken to comforting the Creevy brothers in their pain, forming a friendship out of their mutual sadness. It was something they all needed, bonds that helped heal, lest the survivors perish in their grief.  
  
Neville turned back to his letter, grasping for the words to form his request. It was questionable that the current Minister of Magic would grant what he asked in the first place, but he would just throw it away if it sounded like it came from a five year old instead of the seasoned warrior and soon to be Hogwarts graduate that he was.

* * *

Percy stared out the little window that allowed light into his cell, stairing over St. Mungo's grounds. Doctors and nurses worked with those patients not locked in the criminally insane ward, struggling to help them regain their magic, come to terms with their grief over those lost in the war, or just to regain their minds. Often Percy watched them, strolling across the gardens, attempting to heal and save some of those he helped destroy.  
  
He was shocked at how..different...the grounds seemed from this side of the walls. How brighter the sun shone, how greener the grass was, how more beautiful the flowers were. It seemed impossible that such a change could happen in four months, but there it was. Four months ago he had been here, masked in white, with a fellow group of trusted Death Eaters, to perform one of the most glorious acts of the Dark Lord, the death of four original Order of Phoenix members.

* * *

Flashback

* * *

It was a beautiful battle, bodies falling at his feet, nurses and doctors alike taking their last breath cursing his lord's name. Then the moment, when he faced those he love held dear. They stared at him, their once vacant eyes bright with realization, and their insane babbling reaching a fevered pitch. Percy had raised his wand, and with one breath, with two words, all the knowledge, insane or no, all the life in Frank Longbottom's eyes had faded away, leaving a shell for Neville to find. And Neville did find his father, not five minutes after the Death Eaters had disapperated. Neville had knelt next to his father's body, holding the older man's head in his lap as he broke down, one hand stroking the deep brown, blonde hair that had been so like his own, the other touching Percy's prefect badge, that had been pinned to his father's robes.  
  
Down the hall, screams of untold anguish rent the air. Harry's screams, Harry's sobs, and tears carried thick on the air. Neville kissed his father's cheek for the last time and ripped the badge off, before standing and taking one last look at his parents. He hurried from the room to find Harry, his wand in his hand.  
  
Harry was curled in the hallway, his entire body curled around another. Red hair, stained with blood, covered the distraught boy. A once smiling, freckled face, now slack with death. Harry was sobbing, tears streaking down his dirty face at sucha rate, Neville was sure they would never stop. Neville knelt next to him, placing a shaking hand on Harry's shoulder. There were no words to express what had happened this day, no flowery sentences that could make the death, destruction and pain bearable. No communication to ease the pain and death that ravaged the two Gryffindor's hearts.  
  
The next discovery of the day sent their worlds crashing down around them and destroyed any hope of recovery for the once hero of the wizarding world. Sirius Black was found among the bodies of those that had protected the Longbottoms. Harry had stared at his godfather for a long moment before running from the sight, running from the memories, from the calls of Dumbledore and Neville, and straight into the battle at Hogwarts. He had run from the death of those he loved most, only to run straight into death itself. Voldemort turned as Harry slammed into him, a twisted smile crossing his face as recognition came to him. "Peter!" he called.  
  
Wormtail turned and looked to his master, then to the young boy struggling in his master's grasp. Sorrow and pain came upon Wormtail in untold measure as he knew what was coming.  
  
"Kill him," Voldemort said simply, pushing Harry towards Wormtail and turning away. Peter Pettigrew stared at the offspring of his idol, his best friend, and with a shaking hand, raised his wand. Harry stared into Peter's eyes and saw the horror, the anguish, the sadness that encompassed those brown orbs. He closed his eyes and with his final breath, Harry forgave peter. Forgave him for all that he had done to him and his family. In this long war, he had learned that not everyone could stand for right, not everyone had the strength. With his final breath, he gave peace to Pettigrew's soul, something his father never had the chance to do.  
  
As Peter said the last of the Killing Curse, as he watched Harry's lifeless body fall, the darkness that had surrounded him for eighteen years had lifted. He was no longer the weak servant of an insane man, he was a Gryffindor again. He was a Marauder. As Voldemort turned to see that what he had requested was done, he found Peter's mask on Harry's chest.  
  
But that had not been what concerned Voldemort that night, as he gathered with his remaining Death Eaters. No, what concerned him, was that when Peter had been found and stripped, the parchment containing the only copy of a long forgotten spell, that, when read, could contain the Dark Lord, was missing. It had to be found of course, for it was the only key to containing Voldemort forever. And it had been found, but it had been too late. Percy had found it, in the hands of his lover, as he called Voldemort's essence to the box that would hold him, and keep the world safe. In that moment, Percy had wished for death. Even as Fred had raised a trembling wand, even as Fred's lips formed the beginning of the Avada Kedavra, Percy had welcomed death. When he fell back from the stunning spell Fred had suddenly switched to, the last conscious thought of Percy's was to damn his brother for not ending it like he should have.

* * *

Present

* * *

Percy was startled from his thoughts as the door behind him opened. Turning, he stared into Dumbledore's kind, yet still haunted eyes. Dumbledore stared back at him for a long moment before raising his wand.  
  
Percy closed his eyes, body tense, but ready. Of course Dumbledore was here. Neville had never really granted his freedom, and even if he did, Dumbledore, as the leader of the resistance, had the power to overthrow him. Percy awaited the death he knew he deserved, awaited the escape from what he had become. The long silence stretched between them for eternity until..  
  
"You're release into my custody has been granted,"  
  
Percy opened one eye, looking at Dumbledore. "What the fuck?"

* * *

Dumbledore stared down at the students eating before him. Normalcy. That's what they were trying to recapture. A bit of normalcy in the long road of healing. It was a hard thing to do of course, you couldn't just snap your fingers and make everything perfect again..things would change, things always changed, but life did move on, dragging you kicking and screaming if you forced it to. The sun would always rise, and it would always set, moving time forward, past the tragic events of your life and on towards the future. His gaze moved over his students, his children and he saw the horrors still etched on their faces. Family and friends were gone now, and all they had was each other. However, that was enough. They had stood together, not even fully grown yet, for something better then they were, for the faiths and ideals they held dear. They had stood against enemy and friend alike, declaring their alliance to the Light, and god help them if they had been children of the Dark before doing so.  
  
Dumbledore allowed a small smile to creep across his face. They had won, not on the bodies of their foes or friends, though there were a lot of those. They had won long before the battle ever came to Hogwarts. They won by simply standing up and saying "No" and "This is wrong." They had won by believing they could, and choosing to fight for the only battle worth fighting for, the battle they believed in.  
  
Dumbledore's gaze slid across the head table and rested on a young man, hunched over his food, his cloak drawn over his head to hide his flaming red hair. No one looked at him, but everyone wondered. It was rare for a teacher, or any adult member of Hogwarts to be so hidden away. In these times, most of the walls were broken down and the teachers and students related on a more personal level. So who was this person, that wished to hide?  
  
Percy stared out from under his lashes, his vision partially obscured by the heavy cloak. There. Sitting between a blond and two brunettes was his vision, the applet of his eyes, and all that other mush. Percy sighed softly, still stairing. The back of Neville's head had always been sexy, as was the front, and the sides.

* * *

Colin played with his mashed potatoes, slowly stirring them around until they mixed with the peas, and made a kaleidoscope of ickyness. He sighed softly, stood, saying something in ways of excuse to Neville, and hurried from the room. He closed his eyes once in the Entrance Hall, wondering, waiting. When no one came after him, he allowed a small smile as he raced up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. He had..things to do, people to meet, letters to leave. It was time.  
  
Gathering his things, Colin's eyes rested on a picture frame on his night table. He picked it up carefully, running a finger over the face that was giving him an exasperated smile. With a gentle smile of his own, he pulled the picture from the frame, tucking it into his pocket, right over his heart, and placed a small scroll where the frame sat. Turning around for one last look at his dorm room, he blew a small kiss good-bye to the four empty poster bed and headed out of the room.  
  
Hours later, Percy stumbled and fell over something small, and crumbled. He looked back at the body, for that's the only thing it could be and slowly rolled it over. Colin's happy, tearstained, life-less face looked back at him. Percy, with a shaking hand, slowly closed Colin's eyes and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

* * *

Monica stared out her window, one hand clutching her forearm. It had been two weeks since the ugly tattoo of the Dark mark had been burned into her arm, but it still hurt, a reminder that it was still there..always there.  
  
She turned away from the window and finished packing her last bag. Soon, thankfully, soon she would be away from all this. She would be back at school and could forget at least for a little bit, that she was being targeted by what was left of Voldemort's minions. That she was marked as one of them. She could go back to gossiping with her friends and eating out by the river. Go back to enjoying life, her boyfriend, her teachers and get as far away from England and her Uncle Peter as she could. She glanced over at the piles of letters received from Fleur Delacour, once friend and now teacher and confidant.  
  
Even she didn't know what had happened to Monica, and probably would never know if Monica had her wish, no one would.  
  
Monica turned back to the window, picturing she was looking out over the grounds of Beauxbatons instead of this horrible, ugly, war torn countryside. The Dark Mark burned horribly upon her arm and Monica clenched it in pain, a scream trying to tear it's way from her throat. "I DON'T WANT THIS!" she screamed, her anger and pain boiling over into a shout, tears streaming down her face at a fast clip. She swung her arm out and everything upon her corner table, pictures, scrolls, vases, fell and shattered to the floor, but the damage did not abate her anger. She seized the table and threw it up against the wall, feeling the smooth wood shutter, then splinter apart under her hands. She soon moved onto the other breakables, other valuable items that Peter had trusted in her room. She sunk to her knees, surrounded by glass, metal and wooden shards, crying heavily into her hands. "I don't want this.."

* * *

"The Dark Children, so named as the last survivor's of a forgotten war, are a race of vampires and wizards that have separated themselves from our world." Dumbledore said, watching the bored students in front of him, a small smile on his face.  
  
Dennis smirked at Seamus, using the feather end of his quill to draw an invisible line slowly up the other boy's thigh. Seamus raised an eyebrow and smirked back, grabbing the quill from Dennis' hand and wrote something on the back of the boy's hand.  
  
"Their leader is selected every hundred years, choosen for bravery, strength, skill, talent. "or at least, it was until their last leader was chosen."  
  
Neville smirked as Draco leaned back in his chair and started braiding the long locks of silver hair, making tiny little braids as he listened absently to DUmbledore. Draco closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of Neville playing with his hair, knowing the braids would be a bitch later but not really caring.  
  
"The last, and current leader they choose was a Fallen, a cursed human whose life essence is tied to the survival of an inanimate object, rather like the Philosopher's Stone. Since their leader could not die until the object was destroyed, they have lived under the same rule for centuries."  
  
Dean raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend writing a lewd invitation on Dennis' hand before shaking his head and returning to his sketch, kicking Seamus absently. Seamus smirked and leaned over to Dean's ear, licking it when Dumbledore wasn't looking. "Wanna join lover?"  
  
"Link, the Dark Children's leader, was a warrior and was chosen for his history in battle. Strength and bravery being what the clan prized most. While most are warriors at heart, they do not fight in any battle or war, preferring to stay in their lands and keep apart from the world."  
  
Neville had finished his braids in Draco's hair and reverted to simply doodling on the blond's neck, drawing an intricate pattern of knots, intertwined with words and flowers. Draco shivered every so often, the sharp tip of the quill tickling his skin.  
  
"The clan is well known for their artistry, after all, many of them have been around for so long they have mastered many forms of the craft. For the next month we will have the privilege of viewing some of their pieces, those that reflect their history, their passions."  
  
Dean perked up at his and smiled as Dumbledore looked at him, already picturing how he could use what he saw to work on some of his own pieces. He kicked Seamus again, smirking slightly as the other boy stuck his tounge out at him, tounge ring he wore catching the light. 


	4. Interlude: May This Season Never Grow Ol...

Interlude: May This Season Never Grow Old

A/N-This is an interlude, a flashback to the Christmas before the time the story takes place. The war is still going strong and Voldemort is gaining more and more power. Hogwarts is the last place of safety as the Ministry is now run by Death Eaters.

Soundtrack Suggestions: O Little Town of Bethlehem, Let it Snow, It's Beginning to Look a lot like Christmas, Silent Night, Silver Bells, Mary Did You Know?

*

Neville stared out at the snow falling down around him. The group had been forced to find shelter when the first flakes had fallen and now, hours later, they were still trudging along muggle farmlands, unable to agree on shelter and unable to Apparate back to Hogwarts due to the ministry bands on Apparition.

Neville smirked as Draco cursed, the Slytherin sinking into thigh deep snow for the third time and he turned to look at the other boy. "You know, Malfoy, that wouldn't have happened if you had allowed us to stop at the last barn."

"It didn't have a roof!"

"It had half a roof and was sufficient for shelter," Justin said, grabbing one of the blonde's arms and helping haul him out of the snow.

"It was cold and drafty and no." Draco said, crossing his arms over his chest. "We are not trekking back there." He strode onward, pushing past Neville despite the fact there was plenty of room for him to go around. He felt like pushing the younger boy around just for the hell of it. He smirked, pointing ahead. "There, lights, we'll just go up, knock on the door, and…"

"And get ourselves captured by Death Eaters? We don't know if that house is safe or not, it hasn't been secured," Hannah said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest, more to keep her warm then any real stand against Draco. 

"Secured? SECURED! We're in the middle of nowhere walking past cows, who by the way are giving us weird looks! It doesn't have to be secured, it's owned by MUGGLES."

"You don't know that," Neville said softly. "It could be a stronghold."

"Oh come off it Longbottom, what self respecting Dark Wizard would be out here in the middle of nowhere?"

The other four gave him a pointed look and Draco smirked. "Okay, what minion of Voldemort's would be out here?"

"I agree with Draco. Besides, I think my toes have frozen together. Can't we just, try it?" Dennis asked, wiggling his foot in his over-sized boots. "It's better then getting frostbite out here. Besides, maybe the spells will warm us up if Death Eaters ARE in there."

Neville sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine, but YOU'RE knocking Malfoy," he said, pulling the hood of his cloak up. "And I'm not defending you if they try to kill you. It would be better off just to get rid of you."

"Knew you loved me Nev, really," Draco said, slinging his arm around the shorter boy's shoulders and leading him up towards the warm, inviting light spilling from the windows of the house.

*

Catriona Finnigan, the Matriarch of the Finnigan clan, stared out the kitchen window into the falling snow, rolling her shoulders slowly. She had been slaving over the stoves and her cookbook for most of the day and now, deep into the darkness she was still trying to cook Christmas dinner for twenty or so Finnigan family members. She was secretly glad that Seamus had been agreeable to staying at Hogwarts this holiday. As much as she loved her son, it was a lot easier cooking without him and his boyfriend underfoot. 

She turned away from the window and back to the stove, waving her wand and watching the sauce swirl around with the movement. She smiled to herself, remembering the first time she cooked for her husband with magic. The poor man had nearly had a heart attack watching the mashed potatoes fly across the room.

She groaned as someone came into the kitchen and spun around, brandishing her wand at them, intent to curse them back into the living room, muggle or no when she found herself looking at nothing but the opposing wall. Lowering her gaze a few feet she found one of her husband's nephews standing there, holding out his little cup. "Milk?" he asked softly, giving her a shy smile.

"Of course, Cotty," she said, pouring him a fresh glass of milk and ruffling his hair. "Now why don't you go back and tell all the adults that dinner will be ready soon, alright?"

Cotty nodded and toddled off to go do as she asked, spilling some of his milk as he went. Cat sighed, massaging her face before turning back to the dinner.

*

Draco frowned, peering through the kitchen window with Neville. "I've seen her before…"

"Of course you have, she's Seamus' mother you idiot. She also works with Arthur Weasley regarding Wizarding-Muggle relations."

"Oh yeah...she's the big mouth that's in all the papers."

"Yup, parades her husband to every ministry function so they can watch a happy mixed marriage in works."

"Think she'll let us in?"

"Us yes. You, she'll most likely curse till you hit China. Shall we knock?"

"Sure," Draco said and hopped off the barrel he had been standing on, heading over to the kitchen door where Justin, Hannah and Dennis were waiting for their two uppers to make an assessment of the house. He rapped lightly on the window pane and cursed loudly as it singed his hand. "Bloody hell that hurt!"

"Should have knocked on the wood then," Cat said, opening the door and glaring down at him. "What do you want Mr. Malfoy?"

"Sanctuary and shelter," Neville said, shivering. "Please, Mrs. Finnigan."

"Neville?" she asked, trying to peer under his hood.

Neville smiled and pulled down the hood of his cloak, beaming up at her. "Hullo ma'am."

"My word, well come in children, come in. What in Merlin's beard are you all doing out here?"

"We got lost," Dennis said as he hurried to the stove, warming his hands inches from the hot oven door.

"Very lost," added Hanna as she hung up her wet cloak on the cloak rack. She glared at the boys till they all shifted and handed her they're cloaks, grumbling about her mothering them.

Cat smiled at the group, though it was a bit of a strained smile. "Well, we don't have much this year, but I'm sure we could all make room for you."

Neville shook his head. "We don't want to be a bother, we'll just warm up a bit and then camp out in the barn. Wouldn't want to get into your way."

"Nonsense! No Finnigan has ever turned a friend out in the snow. Besides, it's Christmas," Said Damian Finnigan, walking into the kitchen. The elderly gentleman leaned heavily on his cane, but Neville could see he was as young in spirit as their beloved Headmaster.

Cat smiled fondly at the old man then turned to the five young wizards. "You heard him Neville, you're staying. Now why don't the three of you go out into the living room and warm up by the fire, I'll send Damian back out with cocoa."

Hanna nodded and herded the boys out, calling thank you over her shoulder as she went. Cat sighed and turned to Damian who was smirking at her as he leaned on his cane. "Yeah, easy for you, you don't have to manage the food," She muttered, fighting the urge to kick him in the shin. "Well go on with you, take the poor souls they're cocoa."

*

Lucius Malfoy sighed as he turned to look back at the other two members of his team, who were carrying a third. "How is she Martin?" 

One of the masked Death Eaters looked up at Lucius before glancing back at the young girl in his arms. "She's hurt, badly. We can't keep walking without healing her Lucius, and we can't heal her."

Lucius sighed; running a hand through his perfectly clipped blonde hair, leaving it in more disarray than it was from the trek. "Then we need to find shelter, the snow's coming down faster."

Martin nodded and pushed his mask off his face, glancing around. "I know a place, come on."

Lucius helped him and Penelope pick up the girl and they hurried along the snow-covered path, following Martin's directions.

*

"ANNACOTTY FINNIGAN GO WASH YOUR HANDS NOW!" yelled a plump woman, glaring at her five year old child whom was playing with his train set instead of listening to her.

"Ah leave him alone Doria, let the boy play a bit," Damian said with a smirk.

Cotty made choo-choo noises around the living room, ignoring his parents and by extension, his grandparents. He smiled at Draco as he ran the train over the Slytherin's toes, choo-ing right along.

Draco had to smile, watching the boy. He was the reason Draco was out here in the mind numbing cold, the reason he still fought. Sometimes, it was hard to remember that until it was shown to you. Draco turned to Neville to find the Gryffindor watching the boy, sadness in his eyes. "You okay Nev?"

"Hmm? Oh, of course Draco. Just…remembering.."

Draco nodded, clapping the other boy on the back. "Well knock it off before you start bawling eh?" Draco said, smirking and heading into the kitchen to see if he could help Cat with anything.

Neville sighed softly and hurriedly wiped a tear from his cheek, ignoring Hannah's look of concern. He took a deep breath, pushing away memories of the past before kneeling on the floor next to Cotty.

"You know, I used to have a train-set just like this…only I could never get the people to sit inside it, they kept falling out on turns."

"Mine too, till grandpa stuck them in with bubbly gum."

*

"Where IS this place Finnigan?" Lucius growled, stomping through the snow, nearly falling face first into another snowdrift.

"Not far Malfoy, not far," Martin said, glancing around him, getting his bearings. "I hope," He whispered before trudging ahead.

Lucius gave him a look. "You hope, YOU HOPE? Finnigan I'm starting to freeze here!"

"There! Told you it wasn't far!" Martin said, gesturing to a farmhouse in the distance. "My family should just be sitting down to dinner. We can get some food, warm up, and maybe mum can help with Pansy."

"Just so long as there's a fire and alcohol I don't care," muttered Penelope, pushing past the two men, carrying Pansy in her arms. 

The four soon arrived at the front door and they stared at it for a long moment before Lucius rolled his eyes and reached around the two youngest Death Eaters, pounding on the door.

*

Neville looked up from his empty plate as someone knocked on the door. He then glanced at the other 20 or so people at the table whom had all froze mid-motion. Cat blinked and she raised an eyebrow at the door. There was a moment of silence as if everyone were holding their breath, waiting for something to happen.

Cotty glanced around at the adults then slipped from his chair, crawling under the table, avoiding feet until he reached the other side and crawled out, racing for the door.

Cat dashed from the table after him. "Cotty no!"

But it was too late; Cotty was already opening the door to reveal Lucius Malfoy, blinking down at him from behind Penelope. Cotty looked up at him and he smiled, showing off his missing teeth. "Merry Christmas!"

Cat placed her hands on Cotty's shoulders and she glared at Lucius Malfoy, asking silently what the hell he wanted.

Lucius cleared his throat, giving Cat his best smile that died before it even reached her. "Uh, right. Hullo Madam, sorry to trouble you this bitterly cold evening but we were wondering if we could…"

"MUM!" Martin yelled from the bottom of the steps and elbowed past the others, hugging Cat tightly, and squishing a protesting Cotty. "Missed you so much Mother," He whispered.

Tears wet Cat's face as she clung to her eldest son. Despite they're differences, despite the different ties of loyalty, he was still her baby, and he always would be. Cat sniffed and pulled away, trying to wipe her eyes. She looked from him, to Lucius, to Penelope, her eyes finally landing on the wisp of a girl that was bleeding all over her front stoop. "Leave your wands," she croaked. "Outside, in the box, box. Then you may come in," she said softly.

Lucius glanced at the others, silently refusing to do such a thing and Cat's eyes grew harder. "Leave them Mr. Malfoy, or you can go right back out into that snow. I doubt that girl will live long enough for you to find one of your secret Apparition points," she said coldly. "She probably wouldn't live long enough for you to get out the front gate."

Lucius looked down at Pansy's pale face and he closed his eyes, pulling his treasured wand from its pocket. He slid it through the hole of the small, locked wooden box next to the porch.

"Your other wand as well," Cat said, giving him a knowing look.

Lucius rolled his eyes and pulled out his spare wand, adding it to the box. Penelope did the same, as did Martin. 

Neville watched all this from the table, eyes wide. He went to look at Draco then frowned, realizing the other boy wasn't in his seat. Taking a guess he lifted the tablecloth and looked down at Draco's scared gray eyes. "Think we should run for it?" he asked in a whisper.

Draco shook his head and motioned for Neville to be quiet.

Neville shrugged and flicked the tablecloth back into place, glancing back at the group by the door. He felt his stomach turn when he saw Pansy as she was carried to a couch by Damian and Cat and he stood, walking slowly over to her.

Lucius watched as the boy walked close to Pansy, sneering softly. He itched to curse the Light Wizard and realized just why Cat had him leave his wand outside. He sighed and glanced at the others, still in the kitchen, still frozen, staring at them. He rolled his eyes and turned back to the group crowded around Pansy. Penelope was telling Cat what they had used to try to heal the girl, to no avail obviously, while the old man poked and prodded at the wound.

"She's been shot," Damian said loudly, startling Cat who had been leaning over to look at the wound. 

"What? Shot?" Cat said, shocked.

Damian nodded, prodding the wound. "With an old style revolver. Last century at least."

"Colin," Neville said suddenly, causing everyone to look at him. "Colin Creevey. Mr. Malfoy, you were near Chipping Sodbury yes?"

Lucius nodded, confused. "We were coming from Malfoy Manner and she got attacked on the way to the Apparition point. Are you saying some…kid shot her with a muggle firearm?"

"Yup," Neville said, smirking slightly. "Collin's been saying for ages we should all carry sidearms. I should tell him that his idea bears merit."

Lucius rolled his eyes at Neville's slight babbling and turned to Cat and Damian. "Can you…help her?"

"Why should we?" Cat asked, coldly. "One less Death Eater to worry about in my opinion."

"Mum," Martin said softly.

Damian looked at the group around him coldly. "Catorina, I don't know what problem you have with this young gentleman and I don't care. No, you'll hush and let me speak now," he said, silencing Cat when she would have spoken. "Now you go get me my medical bag and you, Blondie, fetch some water off the stove. Well go on then, move!" Damian barked and Cat hurried from the room to get the bag while Lucius headed into the kitchen, grumbling under his breath.

"You boy, Neville's your name, you know anything about Muggle medicine?"

"A bit, my uncle's a doctor."

"Good, you hold her still, she's going to be in a world of pain in a bit. Ah, thank you Cat," the old man said, taking his bag and digging round in it for his scissors.

Lucius came back in with the water, wincing as Damian cut his way through the expensive silk robes Pansy wore. He set the pot of water down close to the muggle and sat near Pansy's head, holding her hand.

Penelope dug around in Damian's medical case and handed him his tweezers before he could even ask. Damian smiled at her and started digging around in the bullet hole, searching for the missing piece of metal. Pansy's body thrashed, reacting to the pain even when she wasn't awake and Neville held her still as best he could, cursing softly as his chin was hit by her thigh. 

"Ow," he muttered and Draco snickered, watching from under the table.

"Gotcha you little pest," Damian muttered, pulling out the tweezers and holding up a mushroomed bullet before dropping it into a tray that Penelope held. Penelope looked at it, frowning. "Why couldn't we heal her?" she asked softly and Neville answered, examining the bullet. "Colin got Severus to pour these full of a potion that prevents magical healing. There's only a small space for the powder so the bullets don't fire far, but enough to wound someone."

"Ingenious," Penelope said, raising an eyebrow at the bullet. "Very smart."

Neville patted Penelope's back and stood, wetting rags for bandages when Damian finished sewing Pansy back together.

As Damian finished tying the last bandage around Pansy he patted the girl's hand and looked up at Lucius. "If she survives the night, she'll live," he said, standing shakily. "Now, I still don't care what your problems are with each other, I just care about my family. You have returned one of them home to me this Christmas, and for that, I thank you. Come, eat with us. It's Christmas, and for tonight, we are going to forget our differences and sup together and there will be peace at this table or so help me I'll use one of those ruddy wands you lot carry and whip your arse with it!" That said, Damian hobbled back to the table, taking his place and jerking the green beans from his son's hands, dishing them onto his plate.

Lucius stared after the man, open-mouthed and Neville snorted, heading back to the table. Penelope followed him, smirking as did Martin who eagerly embraced all of his family, picking up Cotty and giving him a small toss before sitting, the young boy on his lap.

Draco came out from under the table and took his place, his head down, staring, sightlessly at the food before him. Ignoring Penelope sitting down next to him, giving him a warm smile, and defiantly ignoring the way Dennis smiled coyishly at Martin.

*

Lucius watched as his fellow Death Eaters took a place amid Muggle and Muggle-lovers, slipping easily into the role of friends and family without even a thought otherwise. There was an unspoken tension filling the air but it was avoided, as all white elephants that crashed parties were. There was laughter, strained and broken, but it was there, filling the small house, pushing at the tension and trying to drag it out kicking and screaming.

Life was a funny thing really. You did your best to play the game, to fit into your assigned role but life had this thing about it, it liked to change the rules mid-session. haters [Muggle-haters were not supposed to dine with Muggles. Enemies were not supposed to break bread and offer you a slice. And Lucius Malfoy's son was not supposed to fall in love with Harry fucking Potter.

If fate was a whore then Life and Chance were her bloody pimps in Lucius' opinion. He turned away from the heartwarming and touching scene of enemies throwing aside their differences and spend a Christmas dinner together. He brushed a lock of Pansy's hair from her face, biting his lip as he checked her pulse, letting out a breath when he felt it against his fingers. He had lost to many to this damned war; he didn't want to lose her, not yet. He wasn't ready for that. –Please, God. If I ask for nothing else in this lifetime, please, let me keep her. I know, I have done nothing to deserve your consideration but please. Let me keep her for just a little while longer- he prayed, silently, turning to a god that he had long since stopped believing in.

*

Draco watched his father bend over Pansy, kissing her cold lips softly and he had to turn away. He knew that Lucius would not grieve over Narcissa forever, but still, it hurt him somewhere down deep inside to know his father had moved on. And despite what a certain raven-haired twit might think, it wasn't just because Pansy used to be his own lover.

His mother had only been gone for such a short time, moments really, in the life of a wizard. So how could Lucius have learned to love someone else so fast, so quickly that it seemed Narcissa had barely taken her final breath before he was with another? That was a question Draco could never answer, even if he really wanted to. So now he just sat, blocking the images from his mind, staring down at his full plate, wishing he were anywhere but in this house.

Neville glanced around the table, watching everyone with a wary eye. Everything seemed to be just fine; but then again, they were dining with their enemies. People who, a generation ago, had taken his parents from him, seduced his lover into their world, and left so many of his friends, broken, bleeding and dead.

Neville massaged his face before closing his eyes, centering himself, steeling himself to the task at hand and dug into his food, allowing himself to be drawn into a conversation with Doria regarding washing machines verses wizarding methods of laundry.

*

Cat stood and walked into the living room, carrying a near to over-flowing plate of food to the lonely wizard that sat on her couch. Placing it in his lap with a napkin she took a place near Pansy's side, balancing her own plate on her knees. "It's been a long time Malfoy." She said softly, not looking up at him.

"Huh?" Lucius said, slightly startled that the woman had given him food, let alone was trying to start a decent conversation with him.

Cat snorted softly, letting her gaze meet his. "I said it's been a long time, since we sat together, in the same room, sharing a meal."

"Did we ever do that in the first place?"

"Oh yes, but it was ages ago. When we were young and stupid and cared more about N.E.W.T.s and lovers then we did Muggles and pure-bloods."

"Oh, do tell me when this was, I can't seem to remember any time I was young though I remember being stupid many times."

Cat laughed, taking a bite of her turkey. "Well, let's see, there was the night we, and by we I mean those that were actually bored enough to take Advanced Potions, stayed up in an all night study session and spent so much of it bickering we all failed."

"I remember that night. Severus insisted we were mixing the damned potion in the wrong direction and sometime around two A.M. you threatened to use his head for a stirring spoon if he didn't shut up."

Cat smiled, ashamed of her temper. "That I did, of course, I remember you spending most of the night with your face locked to Narcissa's lips so I'm surprised you even paid the slightest attention to who else was in the room with you."

"It's hard to forget Catriona Ligget and Remus Lupin tying poor little Severus Snape to a table in order to get him to shut up."

Cat blushed lightly. "We were a bit hot tempered with him, but it was his fault we didn't study the potion earlier, insisting we study every potion that Professor Akalam ever mentioned in our seven years at Hogwarts."

Lucius nodded, eating in a thoughtful silence. "What ever happened to us Cat?" He asked after a moment, looking at her. "You were a part of us once, you were Narcissa's best friend, my first girlfriend, hell you're Draco's god mother."

"I grew up. We grew apart, and Voldemort caught your family in his web. As fun as it is to remember what we were Luc, it's hard to forget what we are. I loved you so much, still do in fact. But I'm the wife of a Muggle, who by the way, threw a lovely row when I told him thanks to your wedding gift." She said, giving him a glare. 

Lucius shrugged apologetically, but the smirk on his face told her just how un-sorry he was. She shook her head, smacking his arm lightly. She then turned and looked down at Pansy, watching as Lucius brushed a hand over the girl's cheek without even realizing he was doing it.

"You really love her don't you Luc?"

Lucius took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Yeah, I do Cat. I never thought…after Narcissa took her life I never thought I'd love anyone else like I did her but Pansy just brought it out of me. I don't know how she did it or why I was blessed with her but she means so much to me."

Cat smiled and kissed Lucius' cheek. "I'm glad your happy Luc, really." She then groaned glancing at the table, realizing an argument was brewing between her husband and eldest son. "Excuse me please." She said, standing and hurrying over to the table, trying to head off the fire works.

*

After Dinner-

*

Draco sighed as he stood on the front porch of the old farmhouse, wrapped tightly in Neville's warm cloak. -So much warmer then my own, more expensive ones - He thought, smiling grimly. –Must be because his grandmum makes them for him- He sighed again and stared out into the clouded sky, placing a cigarette between his lips and sucking on the end, wishing he remembered where he had put that Muggle lighter of Harry's.

A flame flickered in the darkness and Draco stared at it for a moment before lighting the cigarette, raising his eyes to meet his father's. Taking a deep drag, he inhaled slowly before letting the smoky cloud escape his lungs, still watching his father as Lucius lit his own cigarette, the smoke curling elegantly from his nose. "Still rolling your own, or have you found a way to smuggle some in from Diagon Alley?" Lucius asked softly, staring out at the night.

"Dean Thomas makes them actually. His father had a machine that did it that he left to him."

"Convenient." Lucius said, still not looking at his son. They stood there for a long, silent moment, each lost to their own thoughts, the smoke curling up around them. It could have been a model poster of a perfect dysfunctional family if there happened to be a roving photographer.

"Do you still care about all of this?" Draco asked, waving his hand to gesture, indicating not the fields he was encompassing, but the whole sordid mess that was their lives.

Lucius remained silent, thinking the question over, his hand gripping the icy, wooden rails of the front porch. "No," He said finally, startling Draco who had thought he wouldn't answer. "Not any more."

Draco stared at his Lucius' face, taking in the wrinkles that had sprung up in the space of a few months, the gray that was barley noticeable in the silver blonde of his father's hair. "Then why continue. Why fight if it's not worth fighting for?"

"Because it's all I have left," Lucius said, finally looking at Draco, really looking at him for the first time in a great many years. "I spent thirty-odd years believing in a cause that in the span of a few months, I discovered is not worth believing in. I've lost your mother…you…everything I wanted in my life. This is all I have left to me."

"There's more left to your life then this war, than this man."

Lucius turned away, shaking his head. "I used to believe that."

"Is it worth it?"

Lucius went silent again turning the question over in his mind. He thought about everything he had ever told his son, every lie that had ever passed his lips when Draco had asked that question before. "Is it worth it?" He repeated, staring out into the night, not seeing the snow, or the barren trees, or the lumps in the distance that made up a fence, but instead seeing a small boy, gazing up at his father from his knee, asking if all the fighting, all the disdain, all the cruelty was worth it. "No Draco, it's not. Nothing is worth dying for. Not pure-blood lines, not Muggles, not even family. Nothing is worth that price."

"But you're willing to do it anyway?" Draco asked, knowing the answer. 

Lucius looked at him again, smirking slightly. "Aren't you?"

Draco shook his head, smirking as well. "You told me once that a Malfoy always wins."

"I told you that several times." Lucius corrected him.

"Several times," Draco repeated, rolling his eyes. "So if a Malfoy always wins, who's going to be the victor of this little game?"

Lucius shrugged, looking down at his son. "Does it matter? Both sides will lose in the end; not even we can stop that. It doesn't matter if the dark side is defeated and Voldemort destroyed forever. Or if he took over the wizarding world and made everyone his slaves. Or even if he donned a tutu and danced the Rumba with Dumbledore. Nothing will be the same again, not for you, or your precious Harry, or any of your fellow classmates and friends. There will be no winners in this game Draco, only losers."

"Does that scare you?"

"It terrifies me. A Malfoy wins at all costs, so my father said to me, so I said to you. Now we're in over our heads and drowning is our only escape."

Draco turned away from his father, taking counsel with the night. He then shook his head and snubbed out his cigarette. "This is a depressing way to spend a Christmas evening." He turned towards the door, pulling the cloak tighter around him. As he reached for the knob a small sound stopped him and he turned around, looking at his father.

Lucius held out the gold wrapped package he had taken from his pocket and tossed it at Draco who caught it with reflexes long buried inside. Draco stared down at it for a moment before looking up at his father, a question in his eyes.

"Merry Christmas, little dragon." Lucius whispered before turning away, finishing his cigarette.

Draco nodded and headed inside, shutting the door tightly behind him.

"I love you, Draco." Lucius whispered into the night, a tear frozen on his cheek, hidden by the darkness.

*

Cat banged her head slowly against the wall as Martin yelled at his father something in regards to wizarding rights being trampled and Muggles taking over everything sacred in the wizarding world. She paused, taking a moment to rub her throbbing head as she peered out the window. She cursed as she saw the still falling flakes and turned to look at her sudden guests, rolling her eyes at the obvious divide between them. "Lucius, Neville, come here a moment," She called, heading into the kitchen.

Lucius and Neville followed her, eyeing each other warily as they did. They stood behind her, silent, waiting for her to state why they had been called into a private conference. Cat turned to them, eyeing them up before speaking. "To state the utter obvious, you and your friends are stuck here for the evening. I ask, no, beg of you to stay, as I don't want to find frozen bodies on my front porch tomorrow. Lucius, there are some blankets in the back hall closet, if you could get them please, and get Martin to help you before I strangle him. Neville, if you could, well, get Draco to stop mouthing curses at the Death Eaters when they pass him it would go a long way. I think Cotty's starting to copy him."

Neville nodded, smiling up at Cat. "Of course, Mrs. Finnigan. Anything else you need me to get or do for you?"

"Make it stop snowing?" She asked softly, giving him a tired smile. "Or else make a large batch of eggnog with enough brandy to make everyone get along."

Neville patted her shoulder lightly. "I think we used up our limit of Christmas miracles." He said before heading out into the living room for a talk with Draco.

Lucius came back with the blankets, handing them out to his fellow Death Eaters before passing them over to Hannah who handed them out to the Light Wizards, telling each of the boys to be sure to snuggle up warm so they didn't catch cold.

"Yes mother," Justin said in a whiny voice, smirking and dogging her kick to his legs.

Hannah rolled her eyes, sitting on the edge of the fireplace, putting her feet up on his lap. "You, Mr. Fitch-Fletchley, are very annoying."

"But you love me anyway." He said, un-lacing her boots. He set them on the wood floor and started pulling off her stockings, folding them carefully after he slid them off. He then took her left foot in his hands and started massaging it, smirking as she groaned softly. "And besides, Hannah, you put up with me for this." He said.

"Not the only reason I put up with you." She said with a wicked grin before sitting up and giving him a small kiss. "Merry Christmas Justin."

"Merry Christmas, Hannah." He said, kissing her nose softly and placing something in her lap. 

Hanna looked down at the ring box, then up at him, eyes wide. With a shaking hand she picked it up and opened it, staring down at the diamond. "Justin…I…I…" She passed out, nearly singing her hair in the fire.

Draco raised an eyebrow, looking over at her, then up at Justin. "Nice move, Fletchley, now all you have to do is drag her back to your cave." He smirked at Justin and took a long sip of his Butterbeer, trying to ignore the ache in his heart as he thought of where Harry was right now. –Miss you Potter…wish I wasn't here- He thought with a sigh.

Neville helped Justin arrange Hannah in a bundle of blankets, smiling sadly as Justin placed the ring box next to her. He patted Justin's shoulder encouragingly. "Just think, when she wakes up she'll be the happiest woman on Earth."

"You think so?"

"I know it. She would be a fool if she said no."

Justin smiled at Neville and gave his hand a gentle squeeze before arranging his own nest of blankets, snuggling into them and close to Hannah.

Neville turned away from them, arranging his own blankets, ignoring the tears in his eyes. –Not going to think about it, not going to thi…damnit, where are you Percy? - He thought, closing his eyes tightly.

Dennis watched his other team members, curling up on the edge of the fireplace, his chin on his knees. He wondered silently what it was like to be in love. Probably horrible from where Draco and Neville were sitting, and wonderful for Justin and Hannah. With the range of difference, why would anyone WANT to be in love? With a mental shrug, Dennis pulled a blanket around him and curled into it, yawning deeply.

*

Damian watched as his family and guests settled in for the night, each wrapped up in their own little worlds and their own problems. He shook his head and hobbled slowly towards the door, pausing to turn to look back at them. "Merry Christmas." He whispered before standing a bit straighter, his cane shrinking down into a small, 13 inch 'twig'. He walked out onto the front porch where a small, white owl waited, shivering. "Hullo, Tom." He said softly and watched as the owl changed into a tall man, his raven hair blowing in the wind.

"Damian." Voldemort said, pulling his cloak tighter around him. "Cold out here."

Damian raised a gray eyebrow at the Dark Lord before hopping on the porch railing, kicking his feet like a child. "Interesting band of merry men you have there."

"That they are Damie, that they are." Voldemort leaned against a porch railing, staring at his young brother. "Remind me again why I'm not in there murdering my enemies."

"Because it's Christmas."

"You never did grow up did you Damie? You and Christmas."

Damian smiled sweetly up at Voldemort, reminding the older man sharply of the eleven year old that had dragged him out of bed at 5 am just to watch the snow fall on the trees before opening their gifts. "What's the fun of growing up if you can't enjoy being a child every now and then? There's more to life then just power and followers, Tom. There's love, hope, life, living, and joy…"

"Love, I remember what that is. It's something that kept your family alive when I should have killed them."

"There's more then just me keeping you from killing them Tom, you know that." He stood and looked around the overgrown lands of the Riddle House. "You killed the gardener, now look at this place."

"I know, I've been meaning to have Wormtail do something about it but why waste the energy? I'm not going to be around to enjoy it."

"You feel it to then? The end is coming for us."

"As it does to all of us in time. I'm prepared for it this time, ready for death."

"Then why leave this as your legacy? I know your heart's not in it anymore."

Voldemort sighed and leaned on a fence post, looking down at Damian. "Because Damie, it's who I am. Who I always was. Besides, it's fun, leave my mark on the world before I go."

Damian stared at his brother for a long moment before shaking his head. "Your idea of fun and mine are vastly different Tom."

"As they always have been." Tom ran his fingers through Damian's hair for a moment before placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "I'll leave you now, Damie. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas Tom. Don't kill too much?"

Tom smiled, shaking his head. "Don't enjoy life so much?" He asked, their usual way of saying good-bye.

Damian smirked and closed his eyes, feeling Tom's hand slid away from him. When he opened them again he was back on his front porch, staring out at the pure-white, unblemished snow. He turned and headed inside, stepping over bodies and sleeping forms, tiptoeing his way into his bedroom. He sat down on his bed, leaning his wand against the night table, staring at it for a long moment before transfiguring it back into a gnarled cane. He took a deep, heavy breath before lying back in the bed; closing his eyes, and letting sleep come for him.

*

The Next Morning-

*

Neville yawned and stretched, sitting up slowly. He could smell the wonderful smells of breakfast being cooked, and could hear others moving around in the room with him. Opening his eyes, rubbing them gently he saw Cotty dancing around, draped in garlands, spinning in circles as he tried to trip people passing by.

Hannah and Justin were curled up together in a blanket, and looking so much in love it was slightly sickening. Hannah kept displaying her ring, smiling a great, wide smile that made Neville wonder, sleepily, if she was entirely sane.

Draco was curled up in a corner, dead asleep, his wand at the ready. It was strange, seeing him alone like that, without his usual shadow. Draco and Harry were always curled together when Neville found them in the morning and it was uncomfortable for the young Gryffindor not to see the familiar morning sight, as if all was not well with the world. Draco shifted in his sleep, his hand reaching out for something, but finding only air. With a small whimper her curled his hand back against his body, trying to protect himself from some unknown attack.

Dennis caught Neville's eye and he focused on the younger boy, smirking as he watched Dennis roll about under his blanket, trying to fight off the morning and claim more sleep. Losing the battle Dennis kicked off his blanket and glared at everyone, blinking sleepily. "Damn sunlight." Dennis mumbled, yawning deeply. "Hate it. Should stamp it out after the Death Eaters."

"Yes, it's a horrible thing, daylight." Neville said, smirking and standing, stretching more, working out the kinks in his back. "Morning Dennis."

Dennis flipped him off before standing himself and going in search of something to drink and hopefully a toothbrush.

Neville rolled his eyes and gathered the blankets that were being un-used, folding them into a neat pile, nodding to Lucius who handed over his before heading outside for an early morning smoke, soon followed by Dennis, Draco, Martin and Penelope. Neville shook his head, trying to figure out how so many people could enjoy sucking on a piece of paper and cotton, only to be rewarded with a taste of something close to toxic waste.

Carrying the blankets into the back bedroom, he paused when he heard the sounds of crying. Despite his better judgement, Neville followed the sounds, figuring that even though he didn't know the Finnigans well, he should at least try to comfort the crier. It was the very least he could do.

*

Cat hurriedly wiped her eyes as she heard someone approaching the door. She turned to the bed and pulled the sheets up over Damian, tucking them in around him, mentally slapping herself for doing something so stupid and useless. She turned towards the door and gave Neville a forced smile. "Hullo, Neville, what can I help you with?"

"I was just going to ask how I could help you." Neville said, setting the blankets down. "I heard someone crying in here."

"Oh, don't worry about that dear, just got a little dust in my eye."

Neville looked at her for a moment before turning his gaze to Damian. "Died in his sleep did he?"

"H…How did you know?"

"You forget ma'am, I've been on the field for a few months now. Even I can recognize the signs of death."

Cat sniffled, trying not to start crying again. "I just don't understand it, he should have had so many years left in him. Why did he have to go now?"

"Because it was his time. The end comes for all of us, and when it's time, it's time." Neville said softly. He walked over to her and hugged her tightly, giving her a bit of his strength.

Cat hugged him close for a long while, taking comfort in the young man she had always considered a son to her. "Thank you Neville, for coming in here. I didn't know how I could face everyone after this."

Neville nodded, pulling away. "Come on, I smell breakfast and you could do with a bit of food before you have to tell the others."

"I'm going to wait, till everyone leaves. Burke would want to be strong in front of the guests."

Neville nodded and lead her out of the room, glancing back at the kindly old man who had invited them all in from the cold. He sent a silent prayer up for his soul, a tear escaping from his eye.

*

Lucius huddled in his cloak, watching as Draco, Neville and Penelope conferred quietly over Pansy how best to get her to the nearest Apparition portal. With a small nod, Penelope took her leave of the boys and stomped up the steps to Lucius, trying to get some feeling back into her toes. "They can help us create a stretcher for her, one that won't jostle her too much, but…it comes at a price."

"Of course it does." Lucius muttered, rolling his eyes at the girl before looking down at her. "Well?"

"They want to use the portal to get back to Hogwarts."

"We'll have to move it if they do."

"I know. Well? You're the leader here, and you're in charge of the portals anyway."

Lucius stared down at the shivering group of young wizards, turning the deal over in his mind. "Fine, but they better be careful with her." He said, glaring down at Penelope.

Penelope nodded and stomped back down the steps, nodding to Neville and Draco. Soon they had wrapped Pansy in their cloaks and borrowed blankets, getting her settled on a half-Muggle, half-magical stretcher that would keep her warm and free of movement as the group traveled.

With a flurry of hugs on Cat's part and a few grunts on Burke's, the group set off, waving back at the Finnigans, calling thank yous for the night spent there.

Cotty waved sadly at the group as they started off, wishing he could follow them. He didn't want to be stuck at his Uncle's house, far way from people who liked to play with trains and knew magic. He wanted to go with Draco and Neville and see his cousin Seamus and go to Hogwarts. He waved harder as the group started to grow smaller and smaller, not realizing that his waving was causing a small bush in the front yard to bloom.

*

Hours later and a great distance from the small farm, the group stopped in a small grove of trees, tired and weary of each other's company. Draco set down his side of Pansy's stretcher and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with his recovered wand. Neville gave him a look and adjusted Pansy's coverings before looking up at Lucius. "This is where we leave you. I…thank you for showing us where it was." He said stiffly, unaccustomed to thanking Death Eaters for anything.

Lucius nodded and tapped his wand against a tree. The area between three of the trees glowed, a circular platform emerging from the snow. He turned back to Neville, waving his hand at it. "Just state your destination, all the usual points are coded into it, except the Hogwarts entrance. The closest you can get now is Hogsmeade station."

"That'll be close enough." Neville said and on a sudden impulse, held out his hand. 

Lucius stared at it for a long moment before taking the boy's hand, shaking it firmly. "Take care of my son Longbottom."

Neville smirked and glanced at Draco before looking back at Lucius. "I think he'd shove my wand up my arse before allowing that." With that, Neville stepped onto the platform and Apparated back to Hogsmeade, glancing wearily about for a sign of a trap before sending back to them a small coin, letting his teammates know it was safe.

Hannah and Justin followed Neville, wands at the ready just in case their leader had been wrong, only to be thrown off the Apparition portal by Dennis, who, eager to get home, had ignored protocol and followed right after them.

Draco stood on the Apparition portal, not leaving just yet. Instead he stared at his father for a moment, memorizing the man's image for later review.

Lucius stared back at his son, allowing himself to taken in the image of the young man he had become. "Stay safe, Draco." He said softly, breaking the tense silence. Draco stared at him, still silent.

Lucius let his eyes drop to the dragon pendent around his neck, Lucius' Christmas gift to him. A small silver dragon curled around a golden lion. His eyes went back up to Draco's and he sighed. "Keep him safe too. The wizarding world needs it's heroes."

Draco nodded once before closing his eyes. "Apparatus, Hogsmeade Station." He whispered and when he opened his eyes again, he was staring into Neville's. "Let's go home."

A/N2-Wow, the ficlet turned out longer then most chapters of the fics…interesting :) Sorry this isn't a happy fluffy fic as I had promised, the Draco decided issues needed to be worked on. A small thanks to my beta's, Amber and Robyn, without them this would have never seen the light of day.


	5. Bitter Hopes

The End of the Beginning

"Even Lucifer was God's most beautiful angel the hour before he fell."

Chapter Eight: Bitter Hopes

A/N: Soundtrack for this chapter- Youth of the Nation-POD, Dear God-Elton John, Bad Day-Fuel, Look at Me-Geri Halliwell (er, don't ask which scene it fits, it's a Seamus song), 

The boy knelt in a small circle of light, head bowed. People moved in the shadows, invisible to the naked eye. The boy slowly licked blood from his lips as he contemplated the stone floor he rested on, his cloak bunched up around him. He raised his head slowly, the feeble light catching his blonde hair and bloody face, leaving a sad image the minds of those watching.

Lucius moved into the light, staring down at him coldly. He drew back his fist and backhanded the boy, sending him back down to the ground. "Pathetic half blood." He growled softly.

The boy raised up on two arms, looking up at Lucius before spitting out a wad of blood, moving shakily to his knees. "Please, m'lord."

Lucius kicked him in the side, knocking his arms from under him. "You have no right to call me that yet."

"Yes, sir." The boy gasped, holding his side.

Lucius circled him, cloak making a nice dragging sound, the only noise in the room save the shifting of the audience.

"Gryffindor, correct?"

"Yes, sir." The boy said, still rubbing his ribs. 

Lucius nodded, moving to the boy's other side. He swiftly struck, kicking the boy hard, smiling as the sharp crack of a bone breaking rent the air. 

The boy gasped, struggling to fight against the pain. To hide how much it hurt. He gagged and spit onto the floor again, blood now filling his saliva from a whole new source. At this rate he wouldn't live to leave Orkney, to return to the natural world.

Lucius stood in front of him against, staring down at the boy's bloodied face before turning him up to the light. "Your brother served my late master well, but he was weak, turning traitor when we needed him most. How can I trust you?"

"I am not my brother, sir." The boy spat. 

"No, you aren't, are you?" Lucius said, an odd glint in his eyes as he turned the boy's face this way and that. "No, you aren't."

Seamus stared up into Lucius's face and swallowed heavily, not prepared for another blow that sent him flying back.

*

Neville stared vacantly out at the forest below as he stood on a battlement, the wind whipping around, ruffling his blonde hair. He stared down at the grass below him, no longer green but a dull, brownish red. Forever stained with Colin's blood. Neville let the tears stream down his cheeks freely, not even waiting the energy to think about wiping them away.

Soft footsteps sounded on the stone behind him as another joined him in his mourning. Arms wrapped around his slowly, carefully, enfolding him against a warm and solid chest. The smell of apples and cinnamon surrounded Neville and he placed a hand on that chest, walls breaking down as the tears came faster. The arms held him closer, one hand running oh so lightly through his hair as he collapsed, bringing them both to their knees. 

Neville just cried, letting out all the pain, frustration, anger, hurt, everything that he had been saving up over the past year. The person just held him close, letting the emotions Neville released pour over them and disappear, purging the smaller boy of the pain.

Neville lifted his mouth and captured Percy's lips hungrily. The other boy held him closer, lips sliding eagerly over Neville's as he brought a hand up to cup the side of his face, savoring the feeling of holding his beloved in his arms again.

Neville whimpered softly, pressing closer to his former lover, trying to climb inside Percy via his mouth. Percy's hands found their way to Neville's cloak clasp and he fumbled with the bit of metal, a grumble of frustration escaping his lips as it refused to budge, denying him access to the boy.

A rip sounded and Neville's cloak fluttered free, dropping around them, baring the boy's sweatered body to Percy's roving hands. Neville whimpered softly as the cold suddenly laced through him, sweater tossed away, forgotten as Percy's hands roamed over the exposed flesh, enflaming every inch of skin he touched. 

Neville's mouth hungrily moved down Percy's neck, his owns hands taking a trip of their own as they searched hungrily for the break between pant and shirt, trying to climb under cloth to caress flesh beneath them. 

Percy growled softly as Neville's hands found their target and he bit down gently on the flesh of Neville's ear, laying the boy back slowly, pulling away gaze down into his eyes, drinking in the sight for later times.

Neville gasped, choking on his sobs as he pushed away from Percy, turning away and running from the battlement, leaving the older boy to stare after him, his own grief etched across his face.

****

Ice slid easily beneath Draco's skates as he moved across the lake, staying to the edges and avoiding the squid that swam just below the surface. Draco spun in a lazy circle, eyes closed as he drank in the sensations of motion, feeling the ice beneath him, the cold air whipping around his face, stinging his cheeks. He took a deep breath, the cold burning his throat as it went down and he shoved his blade down hard, freezing his motion, blond hair still turning about, whipping around his face.

Draco's eyes blinked open slowly and he started across the lake, towards the dark, ice that separated banks. He licked his lips slowly, ignoring the fact his tongue almost froze to them before he closed his eyes again and took off, sliding gracefully down the center of the lake, ice creaking and cracks slowly forming behind him as he glided across the shiny surface.

Draco raised his arms gracefully as the ice cracked below him and he sunk quickly into the freezing cold water. The black waves washed up over his head as he sank deeper and deeper weighted down by the heavy skates on his feet. Fish and Grindylows swam past; staring at him and shaking their heads before darting off to places unknown. 

Two mermaids swam closer, watching him sink, They whispered to each other as Draco sank past them, his eyes closing, lungs convulsing inside him, air bubbling up out of his mouth in bloody gasps. The pair grabbed his arms and shoved something into his mouth before dragging him towards the surface, screeching as they broke through. 

They lay Draco on ice that was solid enough to hold him, each bending close and giving him a gentle kiss on his blue lips before sinking back below the surface, their screeches becoming melodious beneath the waves.

Water started pouring from Draco's mouth as the plant they gave him did it's work. Blood poured out with the water, vessels re-knitting and forming inside him as they got used to the pressure. He started to cough, air entering his body for the first time in three minutes. He gasped before moving to the hole in the ice, throwing up the rest of the blood and water inside his body. He lay curled around the hole, holding his stomach, shivering inside his robes as he blinked, trying to focus on where he was and why he was there. He coughed again, a bit of water gurgling up over his lips.

Slowly, ever so slowly he inched away from the hole, until he was far enough and strong enough to stand and get his bearings. His ankles shook as he surveyed the lake before carefully taking off towards Hogwarts, shivering, cold and sick from the gallons of water that had gone both in and out of his body. He skidded to the edge of the lake, stopping in a shower of scraped? ice, reaching a frozen and blue hand for his blade guards, slipping them on after the third attempt, grabbing his cloak and eagerly pulling it around him. He lowered his head as he staggering, up to the castle, the snowdrifts threatening to pull him down into their icy grasp.

Upon reaching Gryffindor tower he shed off his wet clothes, dropping them somewhere in the vicinity of the fireplace by the fireplace, ignoring Hermione and Susan Bone's looks as he stood nude in front of the fire, shivering violently. He whimpered as something soft and warm was wrapped around him and sank the arms waiting to enfold him.

Neville kissed Draco's ear lightly and rubbed his arms, trying to warm up the other boy as Draco shivers increased just from sheer human contact. Neville pulled the boy from near the fire and nestled him on a couch before stripping down himself and sliding under the blankets with him holding him tight as they shared warmth.

*

Seamus stared at the shackles around his wrist, sighing as he curled in against the throne chair, his cloak covering him for warmth. He twisted his wrist again, wondering, if he chewed off his thumb, could he escape?"

Lucius' boot came down on Seamus' shackled hand and Seamus twisted to look up him, blinking in the dim torchlight as he focused on the blonde man above him. 

"Stand." Lucius commanded.

Seamus slowly did so, ignoring the trembling in his weakened body. Lucius circled him slowly, reaching out, running a finger around the boy as he moved. 

"Follow me." He snapped and unlocked Seamus before striding off, giving Seamus no choice but to follow him. Seamus bit his lip as, along the way, Lucius began to remove his clothing, leaving the older man in just his pants and an un-buttoned dress shirt by the time they reached his rooms. Lucius grabbed the front of Seamus' pants and jerked the young boy hard against him, kissing him viciously as he backed into the room.

Seamus pulled away slowly, staring up at Lucius as the man un-snapped his cloak, letting it fall away. Lucius smirked and kissed Seamus again, hands working on the buttons of the boy's shirt as he claimed the mouth pressed against his. 

Seamus whimpered softly as his shirt was pushed off, leaving his skin bare to the gaze of his master. Lucius grinned and picked the boy up, carrying him to the waiting bed, kicking the door shut behind him as he did."

*

Justin bit his lip as he sat down on the cool, damp grass, gently placing a bouquet of roses on the grave next to him. He leaned against the tombstone, head resting on the curved corner before he placing a gentle kiss on the marble, sighing softly. 

"I miss you, Hannah." He whispered, tracing her name with a finger, wedding ring catching the light softly, reflecting the rays up at him. "I miss you every day." He added, leaning his forehead against the stone. "Why did you leave me here? I could have come with youwe could have been together." He said, a tear sliding down his cheek as he spoke to his lost wife.

Justin lay against the tombstone for a long while, tears sliding down his cheeks as the conversation continued, updating the cold stone on everything that had happened since he last spoke to her. A baby's cry soon broke through Justin's tears and he reached over to the small carrier, picking up his son, holding him close. "Hush now, mummy wouldn't want to hear you crying." He whispered, pulling a bottle from his school bag and fed young Abbot. He smiled as his son suckled contently, eyes bright and full of knowledge, just like his mother's.

"She would have loved to have known you." Justin said softly, running his fingers through Abbot's curls. "she wanted nothing more then to be a mother."

Abbot yawned, burping softly.

*****

Draco sighed and sucked on a chocolate frog, watching the famous wizard card move. He bit his lip before flicking the card into the fire, watching the flames as they licked across his father's face. 

Neville glanced at him, reaching for a shot of the whiskey Neville "borrowed" from Snape. He studied Draco as he drank, looking at him truly for the first time in a long while. It was not hard to guess as to why others found the former Slytherin attractive. He was beautiful, like a diamond almost. Rare and expensive and would probably kill you if you had the luck...Neville, in time past had often wondered what it would be like to lick Draco's pale skin. Vanilla and peppermint were the two flavors that came to Neville when he thought about what Draco would taste like. Sadly, he had never tested the theory. They both had the loves of their life before the war and duringwell neither had time for such dalliances and then when Harry died Draco had turned away from the pleasures of the flesh, burying himself in the clean up of the war and NevilleNeville still had to stare at his lover's face.

Draco raised an eyebrow, glancing at Neville as the boy shifted in his seat, moving closer to Draco, placing a gentle hand on his thigh. If Draco didn't know better he would swear Neville was hitting on him butNeville didn't do those sorts of things.

The alcohol they had been consuming numbed Neville's mind and he struggled to focus as he stared at the boy next to him. Impulse suddenly raced through him and Neville found himself leaning closer, kissing Draco who froze next to him before he groaned softly, pulling Neville closer.

Draco lay back, pulling Neville down onto him as they kissed, his hands running up and down the other boy's bare back. He adjusted his legs so that Neville kneeled between them, bodies pressed full together as they kissed, moving slowly against each other. Draco whimpered softly, eyes shutting as he drifted away on the sensations that Neville was causing.

Neville gave a small, satisfied smile at the sounds Draco made and slowly kissed his way down Draco's body, his own sliding down so he could better access the treasure beneath him.

Someone cleared their throat behind the boys and both looked up, startled by Percy's sudden appearance in the entryway.


	6. The Longest Night

Chapter Five: The Longest Night   
  
_"Only if you tell me what possible significance the fact that it's the shortest day of the year can have," Percy said, digging his thumbs into the bottom of Oliver's back again.   
  
"It's the longest night."_   
  
-"Keeper's Secrets", Wood's Keeper.   
  
Neville smiled at Hermione as she came into the room and snuggled up against Susan under their blanket, passing her lover a cup of hot cocoa. Neville shook his head and turned back to the book in his hands. He was getting used to the displays of affection the two women showed. The fire crackled merrily as Neville turned a page, falling back into his book and into the Muggle world contained within its pages. He licked his lips slowly, ignoring the sting of his cracked lips as his eyes drank in the words. He was soon lost in the world beneath his eyes, gasping as a sword penetrated his hero's chest. He screamed suddenly as a hand covered the words he was reading. He glared up at Dennis, who gave him a small smile.   
  
"You're being called," Dennis said. He nodded toward Percy who looked slightly put out after yelling Neville's name a few times.   
  
"Oh," Neville said softly. He replaced the bookmark, setting the novel on the table as he stood and walked over to Percy.   
  
Percy frowned down at him, his blue eyes ice cold. He silently looked over Neville's face before spinning on his heel, heading out of the common room. Neville followed, sighing softly at Percy's antics.   
  
It had been like this for days, since Percy walked in on him and Draco in the Common Room. Neville had tried to explain but gave up after Dean pointed out he had nothing to explain. It was Percy's fault he had issues with his former lover moving on. The pair walked to Dumbledore's office, both saying the password at the same time. Percy glared at Neville before stepping onto the moving staircase. Neville rolled his eyes and joined Percy, wondering what Dumbledore could want with them this late at night.   
  
As they opened the main door of the office, they saw Dumbledore standing at his desk, feeding Fawkes a bit of candy. There was no smile or twinkle to be found on the old man's face as he nodded to them, motioning for them to take a seat.   
  
Neville did as requested and frowned, wondering what was going on now. Percy sat next to Neville, playing with the pen that he'd brought with him for taking notes. Dumbledore finally sat down and looked at them. "I received a frantic message this morning from Gryffindor Tower. Abbot Finch-Fletchley is missing."   
*   
  
Seamus groaned softly as he finished the long walk from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. He rested against a rock, slowly rotating his sore ankles. Even with the magical healing Lucius had given him before leaving they still hurt, not used to being worked in such a manner -- even before Lucius crushed them.   
  
He glanced around him, making sure no one was around, before lifting his sleeve and looking down at the laughing skull on his arm. He had done it. He didn't know why he had done it but that was a moot point now. He was a Death Eater, forever and always.   
  
Lucius had seemed quite pleased when Seamus received the mark. More then just the pride one held for a favorite pet performing well. It was almost fatherly pride. It scared Seamus. At the same time it gave him a warm, fuzzy feeling, to have someone that proud of him. His father hadn't been proud of him for quite a while.   
  
He sighed deeply and stood, picking up a stick to help him along, limping slightly, and wincing with each step. He raised his eyes up to the castle in front of him, and tried to picture his friends and lovers, to imagine what they were doing now. They could be in class, taking notes, gossiping and sleeping. Or perhaps they were just sitting down to tea. Little light sandwiches dangling from hands and lips as they attempted to finish the last of their late homework and talked even more about what was going on in the wizarding world. Maybe Dean was leaning over to Draco, attempting to read over the blond's hand as he copied down star charts, yawning, still tired from attempting to stay awake in Binns' class. Neville would probably be bouncing baby Abbot on his knee as he babysat him for Justin, laughing as the young child burped up tea and tried to steal "Uncle Nevvie's" biscuit.   
  
Sighing, Seamus trudged on, ignoring the pain and the burning of the still fresh Dark Mark. He threw his walking stick into the lake as he passed it and pulled open the heavy doors to the Entrance Hall with a small groan. His muddy cloak left dragging marks as he walked across the marble floor and into the Great Hall. Standing in the doorway he surveyed the scene and realized that it wasn't the homecoming he had pictured his entire walk here. Something was wrong. The students and staff of Hogwarts stood in small groups, voices hushed, whispering. Neville's head was bent over a map, checking off places as each group checked in before heading back outside.   
  
Draco was standing off to the side, his eyes resting on Neville, arms crossed over his chest, a cigarette dangling from his lips. You knew things were bad if Draco was smoking. He had sworn off the habit when Snape threatened to put a poisonous powder in one of his slender fags.   
  
Hermione darted around the room, checking reports, marking off spots on the map, a spell book in hand as she glanced absently at it before tossing it into a pile of searched and now forgotten books. Grabbing another from Madam Pince she flicked through it as she ran to check in with another group. The scene threw Seamus. Memories filled his head of a time not that long ago when he stood in this very doorway and watched the same scene. It was then that he had to tell the gathered of Ron and Hannah's deaths. At least this time Hermione wouldn't faint and nearly kill herself on the end of a table.   
  
"Honey, I'm home," he called out tonelessly. Everyone looked up at him, faces sad and drawn.   
  
Dean started slowly toward Seamus, eyes never leaving his face, before breaking into a run and sweeping the shorter boy into a tight embrace, nearly cutting off Seamus' air supply. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he clutched his lover, mumbling something Seamus couldn't quite catch. It didn't matter. Seamus held on tight to Dean, his own tears staining his cheeks.   
  
Dean finally pulled away and brushed his thumbs over Seamus' cheeks, wiping away the tears. He leaned closer and placed a small kiss on the boy's nose before leading him into the Great Hall, filling him in on the search for Abbot as the doors shut behind them.   
  
*   
  
Justin stared out over the lake, the cold wind whipping at him, tearing at his cloak, leaving him defenseless to its icy fingers. He watched blankly as the rest of his group trudged across the ice, peering into cracks, checking. Just in case.   
  
Suddenly a scream rang out. Susan dropped to her knees, reaching into the hole Draco had made when he fell in. Lying flat on her stomach she reached in, searching under the edges before pulling out a wet, frozen blanket. Ernie stared at it before lying across from her, closing his eyes as he searched under the ice. The expression on his face told everything. Inch by inch, he carefully hauled up Abbot's body. Even though the child had been in the water for what could have been the entire time he was missing, Ernie carefully bundled him in his cloak, holding him close, trying not to feel how cold he was, trying not to notice how his eyes stared up sightlessly into the sky.   
  
Susan clutched the blanket close to her, following Ernie. Her head bowed, hot tears streaking down her frozen cheeks as they headed towards the castle. Justin barely saw them go. He was still staring out over the frozen lake, a tear freezing to his cheek.   
  
*   
  
Earlier that day...   
  
Justin gave Abbot a small smile as the babe cooed, thrashing his arms around, knocking off his Hufflepuff hat that Hermione had knit for him. The pair was walking across the Hogwarts grounds towards the lake. "Mommy wants to see you little one. Wants to see you all dressed up." Justin bent over, picking up the little hat, mashing it down on Abbot's head, and causing the baby to squeal slightly. Abbot looked up at him, blinking his brilliant blue eyes before blowing his father a raspberry. Justin smiled again as he carefully stepped onto the snowy ice. "She misses her little one." Abbot agreed by blowing another raspberry.   
  
The cracks and holes in the ice showed as dark shadows as the rising sun hit them. Justin sat down next to one, fixing Abbot's blankets, kissing his son gently on the temple. "Daddy loves you," he whispered. "Tell mommy I love her too," he whispered, as he carefully slid young Abbot into the hole and under the ice. He sat there, a smile on his face as Hannah appeared, her arms reaching out to take Abbot from the ice. The sun's rays played over the crystallized ice, causing the hallucination to vanish. Justin hummed lightly as he stood, walking back across the ice carefully, a small smile on his face.   
  
He wondered what Abbot and Hannah were doing now, as he pulled on his pajamas, sliding into his nice warm bed. The baby cradle next to him looked forlorn and far more than just empty. He reached out to adjust a little blanket, smiled and closed his eyes, dreaming of his wife and son.   
  
*   
  
Dumbledore pulled Neville away from the maps and notes, leaning in close to be sure they weren't overheard. "An owl has just arrived you may wish to see," he whispered, handing the scroll to the young man.   
  
Neville accepted it and gasped has his eyes grazed over the words. "No."   
  
"I'm sorry."   
  
Neville glanced at Percy, before back at Dumbledore. "Are we sure?"   
  
"Positive," Remus said from behind them. "I checked the house myself."   
  
Neville closed his eyes, Mrs. Weasley's face appearing in his mind's eye. "How could they?"   
  
"I do not know. The Weasleys were the most secure of those under our protection. If they could have gotten to them then I don't know how we are to keep the others safe."   
  
"Bring them here," Neville, said at once. "We were the safest during the war and by gods we're going to be the safest after. I'm not allowing another family to die. Not after all I've worked for." Neville strode off; nearly slamming into Arabella Figg and Mundungus Fletcher as the pair appeared in the middle of the Great Hall to help with the search for Abbot.   
  
Arabella looked after Neville then looked at Dumbledore and Remus, raising an eyebrow.

  
*   
Harry sat in the Quidditch stands, looking out over the field, wishing he could feel the breeze that was rustling the tops of the flags. The memorial the students had set up to those lost in the war shone in the moonlight, the slowly dying flowers ruffling slightly, bending in towards the names carved in the marble.   
  
Footsteps drew Harry's attention. He turned to look at Percy who was slowly climbing the stands to sit with him. The pair sat in silence for a long moment before Percy coughed. Harry waited but nothing came forth and Harry was happy to just sit there, waiting for when Percy wanted to speak.   
  
"I still love him."   
  
"I know."   
  
Percy looked at the silvery image of his brother's best friend. "How do you know?"   
  
"It's written on your face," Harry said softly. "Every time you look at him, touch him."   
  
"Spying are we?"   
  
Harry smiled, shrugging. "I'm not bound to this place, I just find it peaceful to sit here. He loves you too you know."   
  
Percy snorted softly. "Right, and he shows it so well."   
  
"Perce, he's been hurt."   
  
"So he decided to hurt me back?"   
  
"No. He decided to move on."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"Ask yourself. The answer is within you."   
  
"Because I was stupid."   
  
"Yes...and no."   
  
"Thanks, Dumbledore."   
  
Harry laughed. "Not even close. He moved on because he fears what he feels for you, fears who you are...what you are."   
  
Percy stared down at the memorial below them. "What I can do."   
  
"That, too."   
  
"I love him."   
  
"I know...and he knows, too."   
  
"You know about...?"   
  
"I know. And they're happy."   
  
"I miss them. I didn't get to say..."   
  
"I understand," Harry interrupted. "But they know."   
  
"How can they?"   
  
"It's part of being dead. We know things."   
  
*   
  
Evening meal was a silent affair that night. They sat around the table, heads bowed. Sniffling could be heard here and there. News of Abbot had spread like wildfire. When Madame Pomfrey came in, shaking her head, Susan had gone into fits and was now in the hospital wing, under sedation, Hermione by her side.   
  
The news about the Weasleys' murders hadn't come any better. Fred, George and Ginny had tried to leave, to go to their parents' bodies, but Dumbledore held them back, telling them it wasn't safe. They were now in Gryffindor Tower with Bill and Charlie, grieving. Percy left the tower soon after his older brothers arrived and now couldn't be found, though Dumbledore assured Neville he was safe and still on the grounds.   
  
Dumbledore looked around before standing, his mere presence calling for silence. "Tonight, we have lost two of our own. We grieve the loss, and we honor the memory. I ask you now to stand, and raise a glass. To the life unlived, and the lives lived well."   
  
Neville stood with Dumbledore, repeating the words. Slowly the others stood, tears flowing down their faces as they spoke. Neville watched as, one by one, they stood, their voices raised to the sky.   
  
Only one sat, only one continued to eat. Justin didn't hear a word around him as he worked on his baked potato, his vision filled with Hannah and Abbot.   



	7. Family TiesThat Bind and Gag

Chapter Six: Family Ties.That Bind and Gag  
  
"The family. We were a strange little band of characters trudging through life sharing diseases and toothpaste, coveting one another's desserts, hiding shampoo, borrowing money, locking each other out of our rooms, inflicting pain and kissing to heal it in the same instant, loving, laughing, defending and trying to figure out the common thread that bound us all together." -"Family Ties.that Bind and Gag", Erma Bombeck  
  
"Ah, Mr. Finnigan, come in." Dumbledore said, rising from his chair, waving Seamus to a chair.  
  
Seamus rubbed the back of his neck, sitting across from Dumbledore, practically melting into the soft leather chair. "You called for me sir?"  
  
"Yes, Yes. I have something here, something I think it's time to give you. Now, if I could just remember where..." Dumbledore licked his lips, searching his rack of telescopes frowning, before plucking an envelope from beneath one of them. "Here it is." He smiled and  
  
handed Seamus the stiff parchment. "If you would be so kind as to read it here, so that I might awnser any quest ions you may have."  
  
Seamus nodded, staring down at the letter before using his index finger to destroy the seal, unfolding the parchment inside, eyes staring transfixed as he read the first lines.  
  
Dearest Seamus,  
  
As I sit here writing this, you are but a babe in your cradle. I can look down into your face from my desk and what a beautiful face it is, so full of hope and happiness that I hope this letter is  
  
for nothing. But time has a way of changing things, changing us, so that I know, writing this, is what I need to  
  
do.  
  
This is the story of our family, of YOUR family. Of our past, and one day our future. I write this, hoping you'll understand the choices I have made, and that you'll accept me, and your father,  
  
and so on and so forth, for who we are.  
  
I guess, the best place to begin, is at the beginning. Your great grandfather, my father, was a muggle. And quite a stupid one at that though I love him dearly. He was of your typical  
  
lordship, living off his parents and doing whatever he pleased. His first wife (before my grandmother) was a witch. She was a beautiful, loving, wonderful woman. Powerful and strong.  
  
They lived happily together for five years before they begot a son. The only problem with this, is she never told him she was a witch until that time. Your great grandfather was horrified and promptly got rid of her. Heartbroken, she gave birth to the son, naming him for his father. She  
  
unfortunately, died soon after, leaving her young son alone.  
  
But our story doesn't end there obviously. My father moved on, and had very unfortunate taste in women as he married my mother, another witch. Now, my mother was smarter then her predecessor. She kept her heritage completly hidden from her husband even after she had me. In fact she kept it hidden from me until my Hogwarts letter but that's for later in our story. My mother and father separated when I was six, and a good thing they did too. But my father went back to his parents and my mother took me to live in the muggle world, raising me as one until I  
  
was old enough to know the truth. Then she told me about our heritage, our  
  
magick. She told me of my half brother, and of his mother.  
  
I received my Hogwarts letter shortly afterward and was soon on my way to discovering the word my mother had just so recently let me in on. And what a world it was. I'm sure you will never understand the wonder that is our world, but for an eleven year old boy, just entering it, it was the most wonderful thing I could imagine.  
  
But more wonderful then the whole of the magickal world, was what was waiting for me at Hogwarts. There I found him, Tom Riddle, my half brother.  
  
Seamus jerked his head up from the letter, staring into Dumbledore's face. Dumbledore nodded and gestured to the letter, indicating Seamus should continue his reading.  
  
Tom of course, did not know we were brothers, and didn't find out until later that year, but I was content to watch him, follow him around like a hero worshiping boy, finding out everything I could about the life my brother had lead. For as you know, family means everything to me, more then money, more then...well anything.  
  
But Tom, being the smart lad he was and is, found out of course of our tie and took me under his wing, teaching me, training me. He had lived his life in an orphanage, with no one to call his own. So to have found not only family at Hogwarts, but an actual brother, was something he could not just turn his back on.  
  
Unfortunately, Tom's hatred of his father grew to an even more twisted thing. He was on his way to becoming a very, very dark wizard and I could only stand back and watch. Tom never included me on his little rituals and dark rites and for that I can only be grateful. I can...still pretend he's not as bad as I know deep down he truly is.  
  
By the time I graduated and left Hogwarts, he had already started his rise for fame under a new name. Lord Voldemort. I loved my brother, still love him but he scared me so that as soon as I left Hogwarts, I went back into hiding in the muggle world, keeping only a dim ear on what was happening in our world. I probably should have stayed, tried to stop him, but at the time I was just a scared young boy. And he probably would have slaughtered me anyway.  
  
I married, and had two beautiful children, your father and aunt Doria who thankfully, were both non magickal. As I watched them grow I knew, that I could no longer keep us in hiding. It was  
  
only a matter of time before my children, or their children showed signs of magick.  
  
So I seeked out my brother, I begged for my families lives, promised everything I could to keep him from touching them. So long as we remained away from the wizzarding world, he would have nothing to do with us. So long as none of us opposed him...we would live. It was an easy thing to agree to, at the time.  
  
And so we lived....until this moment. Your father, gods bless him, married the most beautiful witch I have seen outside my own mother. And you, young Seamus, have been born to us. The first of this generation with the gift of wizard. Aye your young, but I can see it in you.  
  
The first casting has already happened, you did your first levitation last night, much to the shock of everyone. So now I know the time has come to tell the truth, for I cannot keep you away from our world, nor can I keep you from making your own decisions about Lord Voldemort, who even now terrorizes both worlds.  
  
I hope, that by the time you read this it will all be for naught. That the reason for this letter will be over and that I will have told you all this myself. But in case I do not have the chance, I am sorry. For I have lied to you just as much as I have lied to your father. I have kept our heritage from you as it was kept from me. I am sorry. But things, as you know, have a way of working out, good, or bad.  
  
Your grandfather,  
  
Damien Riddle-Finnigan  
  
Seamus stared at the letter for a long, silent moment before standing and heading for the door. It had barley opened before he broke into a run, fleeing from Dumbledore's office, from the truths of his family. Muggles, Dark wizzards, long forgotten truths, all of it swirled around his brain as he tried to put everything into place.  
  
Seamus didn't see or care where he was running to, just trying to outrun the many thoughts crowding his brain. He ran past the approaching carriages, past the shocked families and students from the other wizzarding schools who were seeking shelter at Hogwarts as more attacks came.  
  
Seamus flung himself down on the edges of the lake, tears cascading down his cheeks, his eyes distant and vacant. His grandfather..had been a wizard. Why.why didn't he know.why was it hidden? Seamus drew his knees up to his chest, the letter fluttering to the earth as he laid his head on his arms and cried softly, grieving for the man he had never truly known, for everything his grandfather had given up to keep them safe. The Dark Mark on his arm still burned, reminding him of the traitor he was to his family. Or maybe not truly a traitor, after all.his grandfather's brother was THE Lord Voldemort.  
  
He cried harder, the cold air around him ignored as his body trembled with the force of his tears. His hand convulsed around the letter on the ground, tears it, marring the words that had caused his so much heart ache.  
  
The wind whipped around him, blowing his cloak around, and still Seamus cried, his heart so full of pain that tears was the only escape. He sniffled, coughing, choking on his own grief, and still he cried.  
  
A figure watched him from a tower window, his own tears sliding down his face. Dean longed to be out there, holding Seamus, comforting him, giving him a bit of his strength but he couldn't, and it hurt.  
  
* Percy watched as the students left their History of Magic class, most of them still groggy from their impromptu naps, their minds struggling to awaken from the fog that sleep had put them in. He licked his lips, watching, waiting and then, there he was, brilliant blonde hair gleaming silver in the cold sunlight that filtered in through the windows. Seizing the other boy by the throat Percy shoved Draco hard against the wall, stairing down into shocked and angry eyes. "Stay away from him Malfoy," Percy hissed softly, his vice low, yet carrying through the air, freezing the students around him.  
  
Draco laughed hoarsely, his throat growing sore from the force of the hand around it. "And what if I don't Weasley? What will you do then, kill me? I'm sure that will endear you too him even more."  
  
Percy let out a low growl and shoved Draco down to the hard floor, stepping back a space and pulling his wand, aiming it over Draco's heart. He pictured the organ in his mind, beating quickly, spurned on by the adrenaline in Draco's system. "I would kill you just for the fun of it." He whispered softly.  
  
Draco swallowed heavily but felt his eyes turn cold, raising his wand towards Percy. "Back at you mate." He whispered.  
  
Percy let out a deep breath, feeling his body still, going to that secret place in side of him where he let himself do horrible things. "Avada Kadav."  
  
"STOP THIS!" A shrill voice yelled and Percy felt his arm being jerked aside, his spell killing a harmless potted plant. Neville stood there, tears on his face, gripping Percy's arm for all he was worth.  
  
Percy and Draco stared at the shaking Neville, lowering their wants. "Neville, I." Draco started but Neville shook his head. "I don't even want to hear it, from either of you." He said before running off, leaving both men stairing after him.  
  
*  
  
Harry hummed softly as he helped Madam Pince stack books in the Restricted Section. Both turned as the door to the library proper slammed open and closed. Harry floated over towards the gate that blocked the Restricted Section from the main library and watched as Neville flung himself into a chair in a dark corner, curling up, crying. Harry turned back to his work but Madame Pince waved him away, picking up his stack of books and shelving them.  
  
Harry moved over to Neville, placing his hand gently over the boy's shoulder, not touching him, not really able to. "Neville?" He asked softly, wondering if the boy would open up to him.  
  
"Hullo Harry," Neville said softly, hurriedly wiping his eyes. "I guess I'm not strong enough, not like you were."  
  
"Oh? And why is that?" Harry asked softly, resting on the table in front of Neville.  
  
"I can't even deal with a little duel between two dark wizzards.you had the world's hopes resting on your shoulders."  
  
Harry smiled softly. "I did, but so do you now, especially with the Death Eaters gaining a second wind. But Neville, I wasn't strong, I was just.me, trying to do the best I could. And I cried, many, many nights. I cried so much I thought I couldn't' stop."  
  
"Yeah, but you had a reason."  
  
"And you don't?"  
  
"I'm supposed to be brave, I'm a Gryffindor."  
  
"You can be brave and sad at the same time Neville. There's no shame in shedding tears, the shame is not working to make things better after.  
  
"How can I?"  
  
"Talk to them. Listen to your heart and be with the one you love. Live, and stop caring about what everyone wants from you." Harry leaned foreword and blew a kiss to Neville's forehead before going back to the Restricted section, going back to his work.  
  
Neville sat there in silence, thinking.  
  
*  
  
Percy headed out of the Great Hall, tired of the stairs and whispers that had fueled the dinner hours conversation. He should have known it would be a moronic decision to attack Malfoy in the middle of a corridor, now everyone would know about it. And everyone would bring up the past, the rumors, the talk of a Death Eater at Hogwarts. He shook his head, pulling up the hood of his cloak, heading for his rooms when searing pain shot through his arm, and Percy gasped, clutching the burning tattoo, falling to his knees, tears streaking down his face as he fought the pain, fought to breath. A shadow fell over him and he didn't raise his head, to body dying, one cell at a time.  
  
"Are you going to go to them?" Neville asked softly, watching his lover, aching to take away the pain.  
  
"And if I was?"  
  
"You need to make a choice, Percy." Neville said softly. "Them or us, good or light."  
  
"What do you want me to say Neville?"  
  
"That you love me, that it was all a mistake, that you have nightmares about what you did. That it's all over, that you're here now and w2ill be here always. That you're good."  
  
"I can't,"  
  
"You won't."  
  
"No Neville, I can't. It wasn't a mistake, and I don't have nightmares. I never regret the choice I made because for me, it was the right choice. I loved every minute of what I did and I'm only sorry that you can't under stand that."  
  
Neville stared down at Percy, unable to belive what he was hearing. What had always remained unsaid between them had just been said. And Neville no longer had a shield to keep him safe from the truth.  
  
*  
  
Catorina Finnigan leaned over, kissing Dumbledore's cheek before following her husband out of the Great Hall. They were one of the few families who had came to Hogwarts, looking for safety in the new rise of Death Eater movements. Still grieving Damian and still learning the truth about his family, Burke Finnigan was uncomfortable around most of the other wizzards that had come with them but was slowly opening up, slowly learning about the world his father had never told him about.  
  
Just as the couple was about to enter their room to ready for an evening get together with the Bones and Creevies, Doria Finnigan came running up to them, gasping, clothes muddy, hair covered in branches and in complete disarray.  
  
"Doria, what in gods name is the matter?" Catorina asked, grabbing her sister-in-law's arm, trying to calm her.  
  
"Cotty," Doria whispered.  
  
"What about Cotty?" Burke asked, concern flowing though him.  
  
"Cotty's missing." She whispered. 


	8. Voyeuristically

Chapter Eight: Voyeuristically  
  
_We cannot live for ourselves alone. Our lives are connected by a thousand invisible  
threads, and along these sympathetic fibers, our actions run as causes and return to  
us as results. --Herman Melville_  
  
The floating smoked skull hung heavy over the castle that housed Hogwarts School of  
Witchcraft and Wizardry. Burke swallowed hard as he stared up into the mocking  
face, unable to tear his eyes away. He had seen a great many things in his long  
marriage to Catorina. Many incredible, unbelievable things that he had since come  
to accept as normal and natural. But every once and again, something caught him off  
guard, something thrashed against his brain, something that he couldn't, would never  
make sense of. The laughing skull above him was one of those things.  
  
Dumbledore leaned heavily on his cane as he glanced wearily up at the Dark Mark, his  
age suddenly rushing over him in such a wave that he trembled, and if not for  
Minerva's hands on his arm, he would have fallen to the ground. He looked away from  
the emerald smoke and locked eyes with Snape who gave a small nod and moved to herd  
children and parents back into the school.  
  
It wasn't as successful as one would hope, the young children pointing and talking,  
their parents rooted in fear. Even the muggles, those still trying to acclimate  
themselves to this new world were afraid. They knew that mark. They had seen it  
too many times to not hold the same fear as their wizarding counter parts.  
  
Seamus licked his lips as he tore his eyes away from the symbol, a symbol he now  
carried on his arm. He tugged at the sleeve of his robe as he slipped through the  
crowd, trying to hide amongst the throng. He turned and looked over his shoulder,  
but instead of a green haze, he instead found his eyes drawn to a pair of brown that  
were stairing coldly into his. He shifted, uncomfortable before turning away from  
Percy's gaze, fleeing for the safety of the castle. A caste that was no longer a  
safe haven as tell of young Cotty's disappearance and the floating skull spread  
through its walls.  
  
***  
  
Peter ran his hand over his cold, silver hand, watching as Lucius paced the room,  
the older man's robes swirling around him as he stalked a dust bunny, anger  
radiating of off him. Peter swallowed and poured another shaky glass of brandy,  
downing it quickly, feeling the alcohol burn through his veins. He looked up again  
and gave a sheepish smile as he saw Lucius stairing at him. "Just a bit of  
courage," He said softly, putting the stopper back in the crystal decanter. "For  
the long road ahead,"  
  
"There is not enough brandy in the world to give you courage, Pettigrew," Malfoy  
hissed and slammed the far doors open with a flick of his wand. "Summon him, NOW!"  
  
Peter all but ran through the doors, his own anger fueling him. He may have been a  
rat but really! He was tired of being the fool to someone. First James and Sirius,  
then Tom. Now this idiot. He really should have killed him when he had the chance.  
  
Peter headed back to his suite of rooms, ignoring the calls of other Death Eaters  
who were eager to lick Lucius's boots and tried to use Peter as a stepping stone.  
He didn't have time for the hassle it always caused.  
  
***  
  
Harry slipped slowly down the stairs of the dungeon rooms, humming off key to  
himself as he thought of seeing Draco. Even after he had returned to Hogwarts, he  
had only seen his former lover once or twice, the pain still too fresh for both of  
them. He knew that, seeing as how he was dead, the pain would fade faster, but it  
was still there, deep inside. It was hard to end true love.  
  
He paused, hearing a sound ahead of him and floated closer, peering around the  
corner, pushing his glasses up his nose as he watched the back in front of him.  
  
**  
  
Neville stood in the doorway of the potion's classroom, smiling softly as he watched  
Draco lean over a student, gently correcting his stirring, his hand clasping the  
other boy's as they stirred the potion together.  
  
He leaned against the door frame, watching the scene, giving a small wave as Draco  
looked up at him. Draco nodded before going back to teaching, reveling in his job.  
The bell soon rang and Neville watched as the kids packed up and hurried off, eager  
for whatever lay before them. He stared after them for a long moment before  
slipping into the potion's room, joining Draco at his desk.  
  
Draco smiled and earned down, kissing Neville's nose gently, gathering up his  
things. "And what can I do for you, Mr. Longbottom?"  
  
Neville smiled, watching Draco's hands as they slowly, carefully picked up their  
master's belongings, packing them away in his bag. He paused, licking his lips.  
"Make me forget him," he whispered, reaching out and stilling Draco's hands.  
  
Draco looked up at him, brow furrowed. "Make you forget." His eyes widened as  
Neville nodded and he ran a hand over Neville's smooth cheek before tilting the  
young man's face up and slowly kissing him.  
  
Neville's eyes fell shut as his returned the kiss, slowly, before slowly growing  
hungrier, pulling Draco closer, his arms sliding around his, hopefully, soon to be  
lover's waist.  
  
Draco shoved his worries and concerns to the back of his mind as he slowly un did  
the fastening's of Neville's robes, his hands trembling as his cool reserve broke,  
fading away.  
  
**  
  
Percy watched the pair in his scrying bowl; his tears hitting the water, making the  
images shift and distort. He should have turned away at Neville's words, banished  
the images, but he couldn't.wouldn't look away from this. Neville was a fool if he  
ever thought that Draco could replace him, take his place in Neville's heart. And  
Draco was an idiot for even trying, for daring to be anything to HIS Neville. The  
blonde man would pay, not now of course. He couldn't make a bloody move without  
that fool, Albus stalking his footsteps, but soon, when his Master returned to  
power, then the idiot would pay, a nice, bloody price for this.  
  
**  
  
Neville's hands ran slowly down the silk robes Draco wore before sliding them off  
his shoulders, his mouth following the fabric over flesh as much as they could  
before hitting more fabric, a growl rising in his throat. The shirt was done away  
quickly, aid given by a sharp knife Draco had thoughtfully left on his desk.  
  
Draco cursed and glared at Neville before returning the favor, letting the shards of  
fabric fall from his hands. A groan escaped as Neville's tounge and mouth left hot,  
wet trails across his flesh, making him shiver and push the boy away. He kissed  
Neville tenderly again as he lifted Neville onto the desk, his own mouth playing  
explorer now, across the planes of pale flesh, tasting new areas, conquering un  
claimed bits.  
  
Whimpers and sighs escaped Neville, his eyes closed again, savoring the tastes and  
sensations of pleasure he hadn't felt in far too long. Whatever he had been trying  
to forget had been forgotten as he gave in to what his body wanted. The pain would  
come back, but for now, everything was bliss.  
  
**  
  
Hary watched in hungry fascination as his ex claimed a new lover, his pale green  
eyes drinking in the sight of their bodies moving together, his ears swallowing the  
sounds that floated to him. His heart twisted inside him, torn, bleeding at the  
loss. When he had died it had hurt, to leave love behind, but nothing, not even  
death felt as wretched as watching your lover fall for another, nothing felt as  
empty as watching that love come to shattering completion. The knowledge that it  
was all truly gone, that they were gone. That was a lesson Harry would have eagerly  
done without. He knew Draco wouldn't wait forever, hoped that he wouldn't. But  
his was far more then he could bear, but still, he watched.  
  
**  
  
"You are crying," Lucius whispered softly, running his fingers through the silken  
hair that teased his cheek, his other running over his lover's face, gathering the  
salty droplets, watching as they slid over his finger.  
  
Seamus closed his eyes, more tears falling from his lashes in the action. He  
swallowed and blinked, looking up at his lover, his master. "I'm scared,"  
  
"Of what?"  
  
"Myself, this, what I've done. I'm scared for my family, Cotty."  
  
"Is fine, I'm sure."  
  
"I wish I could know that. Who.he's just a child."  
  
"A powerful child, or so I've been told."  
  
"But he's only five. Who would take a five year old? He has no training to be of  
use to anyone, and if it's revenge.for what? We've never done anything."  
  
"Your mother.." Lucius started but trailed off at the look in Seamus' eyes.  
  
"My mother did what she thought was right. She's never been a threat to us, to our  
cause, she's just a witch in over her head." He growled, sitting up, the silken  
sheet sliding away from his naked body. He stood and stretched before crossing to  
the window, the moonlight playing over his flesh.  
  
Lucius watched him, smiling as he studied the beautiful sight presented to him  
before standing himself and crossing over to Seamus, wrapping his arms around him,  
pulling him tight against his chest. "I promise, love, I will give whatever I can  
to help you find your cousin. Your every wish is my command." He whispered,  
kissing the shell of Seamus' ear.  
  
"And what is the price?"  
  
Lucius' shocked reflection made Seamus laugh mirthlessly. "There is a price to  
everything, Lucius. The price for power is my body; the price for my secrets is  
your body. What is the price for your aide?"  
  
"You are too cynical." Lucius said before pulling away. "But there is a job I need  
done, by the right person,"  
  
Seamus just raised an eyebrow, expecting this. He was right about what he said,  
there was always a price for things. Something he learned early on.  
  
"I have a," Lucius paused, searching for the right word. "Nuisance that has become  
more of a problem. She was to be my protege, but instead she is a traitor." He  
looked at Seamus; the moonlight now glinting of a sharp, deadly knife he had picked  
up from the night table. "Remove this thorn for me?"  
  
Seamus took the knife, running a finger over it before raising his eyes up to the  
moon. "As my lord wishes," He said softly.  
  
**  
  
Monica looked over her shoulder before pulling her hood lower over her face,  
slipping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. Her arm itched and she raised  
her sleeve, glaring at the tattoo on her arm. "Bastard," She hissed and hurried  
more, darting across the wide lawn, heading for the front doors of Hogwarts. She  
fingered the scroll in her pocket, a full and detailed account of Death Eater  
activity, as she knew it. Dumbledore was waiting for this paper, the last bit of  
proof he needed before he held an assembly for the refugees and students of  
Hogwarts, announcing the return to war.  
  
She winced as she stepped on a twig, the snap echoing in the still night. She froze  
and listened hard for sounds that betrayed her, for sounds of pursual but the night  
was empty not even the insects bothered to announce their presence. Relief coursing  
through her she moved forward again and screamed as a cold arm slid around her. Her  
cry was unheard though, muffled by the gloved hand over her mouth. She bit on the  
hand but her captor just chuckled softly, his lips pressed against her ear.  
  
"Dragon hide, bitch." He whispered his breath moist, warm.  
  
Something pressed against her ribs and her eyes widened, feeling the point that slid  
under her robe.  
  
"Our master has called to you and yet you don't come, he worries," The voice said.  
The point of the knife slid in more, slicing through her thick sweater. "He wishes  
to speak to you, but you ignore him. He writes and you burn them." The speaker's  
tounge flickered over her ear. "Traitor," He hissed and pulled the scroll from her  
pocket.  
  
Seamus shoved Monica forward, pushing her to the ground. He smiled, a cold twisted  
version as she tried to crawl away. His booted foot landed hard on her back and she  
fell to the ground, weeping. "Pathetic," He said, shaking his head. He rolled her  
over with his foot and struck, his knife plunging into her heart, and into the soft  
soil beneath her body. He knelt and pulled another knife from his boot, lifting her  
arm, baring the mark she detested with every fiber of her being. He kissed the  
skull softly before placing the knife against her flesh; the blade biting into her  
skin, peeling the tattoo she was so unworthy of from her body.  
  
He stood, holding the bloody knife and dripping flesh, the scroll still clutched in  
his other hand. He put the papers in his mouth for a moment, using his robes to  
clean his knife carefully before sheathing it, the bit of flesh sliding into a  
holder, safe for the moment. A golden lighter came from his boot next and he  
flicked it open, holding the scroll out as he flicked the flame to life.  
  
His face was lit up as he ignited the scroll, letting it burn until he had to  
release it, the burning ash falling onto the body at his feet, scattering around  
her. He blew the body a kiss before pulling his hood up again, heading slowly for  
the castle, his hands in his pockets, a cheery whistle falling from his lips.  
  
**  
Percy's eyes followed Seamus as he walked slowly up the entrance steps. As the  
blonde disappeared into the castle, Percy let his gaze return to the body lying  
alone on the front lawn, licking his lips, feeling his passions rise even higher.  
It had been a long time since he had killed, felt the warm blood rush over his  
flesh, the rush of lust and thrill of adrenaline as his watched life fade from  
another's eyes. It was something he missed with a burning pain. And now another  
got to enjoy his thrill while he was stuck in his prison.  
  
**  
  
"Let me go!" Cotty shouted, tears streaming down his face as he pulled against his  
chains, heaving his entire tiny body forward, biting back a scream as the iron tore  
into his already torn wrists. "Please," He whispered.  
  
He blinked; light flooding his tear filled vision, making it even harder to see.  
He could vaguely recognize a tall, thin person standing in front of him, blackness  
surrounding the body, a darkness that came from within, rather then from the  
outside. Cotty hated the visions he got, they scared him and gave him nightmares,  
and he couldn't tell anyone what he saw, no one would belive him.  
  
"Please, let me go," He whispered. "I want my mummy,"  
  
The figure laughed and brushed the tears from his cheeks, kissing his forehead.  
"Your mummy doesn't want to see you," he said before standing. "Now be a good boy  
and close your eyes."  
  
"NO!" Cotty screamed but it was no use as the visions kept flooding over his sight,  
distant images and sounds, brought on by the food and drink they kept forcing on  
him. "I won't," he whispered, even as his eyes clamped shut against the pain.  
  
Lucius watched the boy for a moment before going back to his desk, keeping an ear on  
the sounds that came from the closet as he worked.  
  
**  
  
Draco ran his fingers through Neville's hair, watching as his new lover slept,  
trying to memorize every inch of his face. This was how Neville should  
look.peaceful, innocent. It was the boy he had always known; though the baby fat  
had long since been lost, much to Draco's pity. But time had changed the boy, war  
had hardened him. The anger, fear, hate, worry that Neville felt constantly while  
awake had changed him, outside as in. The innocence had fled quickly, replaced with  
lines of worry, creases of hate that aged Neville, and while he was most definitely  
no less beautiful, Draco's cherub had disappeared, replaced with a man.  
  
Draco kissed Neville's lips tenderly, pulling him closer against him, the blankets  
cocooning around them. "I won' let you hurt anymore," He whispered, his fingers  
running down over Neville's back. "I swear it, no more pain, no more loss. I won't  
let you leave me, just as I won't leave you."  
  
Neville's broken heart slowly started to gather it's pieces, warmed by the promise  
that couldn't be kept.  
  



	9. Heroes

Chapter Nine: Hero  
  
The real hero is always a hero by mistake;   
he dreams of being an honest coward like   
everybody else.  
--Umberto Eco  
  
*  
Time really had no meaning in the planes that existed beyond death. One could go from form and flesh to wispy conscious and never realize how many eons had passed them by. But one soul knew. For he had never died, and he was about to be born again.  
  
*  
  
Neville threw a book across the library, putting his head in his hands, ignoring Dobby's muttered words as the house elf went chasing after the book, properly shelving it. Dobby really hated library duties, especially when Neville was working, late at night. The boy had a tendency to throw things, and didn't care much where the item landed. Dobby was already sporting a large bandage on his nose.  
  
"Another sir?" Dobby asked, gesturing to the Restricted Section.  
  
Neville nodded and waited for the next book to land in front of him before disappearing into it's depths, searching for anything. He was getting rather desperate. A murder, in their own front yard, a disappearance from the very halls of Hogwarts, more dark skulls hanging over empty homes, and now.Now Lucius Malfoy had officially declared war on the wizarding world. Well, he declared war more on Hogwarts then the wizarding world, but really it was a first step. Voldemort's plans in reverse.  
  
It had been what Draco had called a childish move, a nod back to the old wars, a young boy had come, bearing Lucius' missive. Percy had to actually step in and stop Draco from harkening back to an even earlier time and killing the messenger. It was a sarcastic letter, a needle to Dumbledore and his new 'hero', nothing more then a pithy gesture, which garnered the wanted reaction of anger, fear and hated.  
  
Neville banished the new book, attempting to banish his thoughts with it, nearly pulling out a lock of hair as he ran his fingers through it again. He stood, knocking over his chair and strode to the Restricted Section, pushing Dobby out of the way as he searched the selves himself, scanning the dark and deadly volumes, desperate for something to reach out and grab at him.  
  
*  
  
Cotty pulled his cloak closer around his small body, stairing up at the stars above him as he leaned back against a tree, tears drying on his face. His left hand absently rubbed over his right wrist, feeling the shiny scars that wrapped around them, permanent pink snakes to mark him as a prisoner.  
  
The stars twinkled down at him, smiling, dancing, cheering him. He was free.for a moment. The visions had left him for the day, his mind exhausted, his sight blurred from the haze of smoke and blood that he saw on another plane. The blonde man had told him his eyes would probably never fully heal, that he would forever see the world as a field of colour instead of anything true.  
  
Cotty feared for what he saw, the bloody, the death, the bodies of his mum and uncle, but here he was safe. He wasn't at Hogwarts, where the ruins would be, he was still breathing while others weren't. He didn't know if what he'd seen had come to pass yet, time means little to a child, but he knew that some of it had. The girl who had screamed in his sleep was in the paper. He had seen it on the blond man's desk when he had been taken out of the closet.  
  
Seamus had been there too, but even his cousin Seamus couldn't see through invisibility cloaks, and no matter how much Cotty screamed to him, it's rather hard to move a taped mouth.  
  
Seamus still had blood on him from the screaming girl, not that that seemed to matter to the blonde man as they kissed. Cotty shuddered as he remembered what he had been forced to watch. The only thing that made that memory good was the fact that his cousin Seamus had pleaded the blonde man to find him, something about a promise.  
  
*  
  
"Welcome, Neville." Dumbledore said, not bothering to rise as the young man stepped into the large room.  
  
It had once been a ballroom, back when Hogwarts held balls, but now it was a dust filled and desolate room. In the center, in a raised platform, a small pedestal lady, an ancient symbol carved at it's center. At the top was a slit so that something could be slid into it.  
  
Neville nodded to the aging headmaster before raising his eyebrows at the cloaked figure standing next to the pedestal, blond hair peeking out from beneath his hood.  
  
"Neville, this is A'haradlink."  
  
The cloaked figure gave a soft chuck, pushing back his hood, his bright blue eyes sizing up Neville, weighing the boy's worth in his mind. "Most just call me Link."  
  
Neville nodded in absent greeting, his eyes flickering back to Dumbledore. "You called for me, Headmaster?"  
  
"Yes, Neville. Some of our newest.allies wish for you to be tested."  
  
"Tested?"  
  
"Your strength, your courage, they are not willing to align themselves with us unless you are proven worthy."  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"Everyone is looking to you as the new leader, after all, you saved us once before. No matter your feelings, you are their choice as a leader."  
  
Neville sighed, running his hands through his hair. "So, what is this test, a duel, a battle, multiple choice?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled and there was the sound of a blade being pulled free from it's sheath. Neville turned to look at Link who was now holding an almost purely silver sword. The only colour was on the hilt, where sapphire blue leather and silver wire wrapped around it. "All you have to do, child, is pull this sword, out of that stone." He nodded to the pedestal.  
  
Neville raised his eyebrow again. "Excuse me?"  
  
Link smiled and went to slide the sword into the slit on the top of the pedestal when someone behind Neville cleared their throat. The three men turned to see Draco, leaning against the doorway. "Perhaps, given your history, someone else should slid the blade in."  
  
Link looked at him, then the sword, and nodded. "Perhaps it would be wiser." He offered the blade to Draco who excepted it, and slid it in, watching as the stone sealed around the blade. He stepped away from the pedestal, moving to stand next to Neville.  
  
"So, you are telling me, that I have to pull the sword from the stone, in order to prove my worth?"  
  
"An ancient test, given at the proper age, to determine a leader." Percy said from the shadows. "As it was once done, so shall it be."  
  
"Great, more ancient mystical crap that enjoys biting me in the arse." Neville muttered before moving to stand next to Link. "All I have to do is pull it out? I don't have to fight anything with it, kill anything?"  
  
"Just pull it out," Link confirmed.  
  
Neville took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly, ignoring the way his cheeks bulged out as he did so. He wrapped a hand firmly around the handle, shivering a bit as the cold metal wire touched his skin. His eyes closed and he pulled.  
  
A warm breeze whipped around him, tugging at his clothes, his hair fluttering. His eyes jerked open and colours rushed past, forming scenes and memories and a number of things. Battles, blood, death and victory all played out in front of his eyes. It felt as if he were rushing past them all, though still standing still.  
  
They halted with a bright flare of colour and light, leaving Neville blinking, temporarily blinded. He opened his eyes as the spots started to fade. Link still stood beside him, but the others were gone. Instead of a dusty, nearly empty ballroom there were people. The room was filled with people, all talking in low whispers to their neighbor, most looking at him.  
  
Neville closed his eyes tightly before slowly opening them, cursing under his breath when they didn't disappear. He removed his hand from the entombed sword and stepped back from the pedestal, trying to take it all in. A hand reached out to steady him and Neville turned, looking into Harry's pale eyes. "What?"  
  
"It's more of a where, really." Link said, looking at Neville. "Perhaps I could have been more specific when I told you, you just had to remove the sword."  
  
A man stood from the chair he had been sitting in, moving closer to the sword, running a ghostly finger over the rounded end, before looking up at Neville, his brown eyes full of sorrow. Neville knew that face, he had seen it every day for the past seven years in his common room. But in the tapestry, Godric Gryffindor had been a smiling man, and the ghost in front of him probably hadn't smiled in centuries.  
  
"We are here to give you a choice," Godric said softly, still running a finger over the cool metal of the sword. "One we were all given." His eyes flickered to Harry who snorted. "Well, most of us," he turned back to Neville. "A choice to take this sword, or to walk away."  
  
"I don't.I don't understand," Neville said softly.  
  
"They call this a test, those who don't understand." A voice said to his left and Neville turned, seeking out the new speaker. He was a tall, muscular blond man whose hand rested on the shoulder of a smaller, younger blond. The seated man wore a small circlet of cold around his head while his companion, the one who had spoke wore blood stained armor. They shared a glance before the knight spoke again. "But it is, in it's reality, a choice. A crossroad."  
  
Neville was looking more and more confused, and it was probably only going to get worse. Harry smiled softly and took Neville's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.  
  
"There is a time, in everyone's life, when they must grow up. Long ago, these times were marked by Rites of Passage, challenges, journey's, quests they must fulfill. To complete them meant you were an adult, with all the rites and privileges that came with the title. To fail, meant you were cast aside."  
  
Both boys stared at Link as he spoke, not to them, but to the sword, as if lost in his own memories.  
  
"For a few, the challenge was different. They were the choosen, set aside by Destiny. They were the ones labeled as heroes, those who fought." He blinked and looked up at them, his eyes shadowed by the past. "They were born into their roles, and often played their fate before they could walk. Often they, we, never knew anything else then what Destiny had written for us."  
  
"But you did." A woman said softly and many turned to look at her, moving aside so she could stand before Neville. "You knew a life that wasn't based on fighting and dying. Of standing as a figurehead. You were free of Destiny."  
  
"But Destiny and Fate have now claimed you, and so you stand before us."  
  
Neville blinked at the man, distractedly wondering if he was really just wearing a sheet.  
  
"And here, is where Free Will, takes it's stand." A young boy said. He was sitting on a table, kicking his feet, looking young and innocent, looking free. As Neville and Harry once looked, as they all once looked, a long, long time ago. Before time had hardened them, before they had grown-up.  
  
"There are hard times ahead of you, Neville." Harry said, squeezing his hand again. There are good times too, but there will be points when those good times seem few and far between."  
  
Neville bit his lip, reminding Harry forcibly of the young boy who had lost his toad on that train ride seven years ago. "What's going to happen?" He asked softly.  
  
Harry shook his head. "Wish I knew, but not even the Gods know for sure. There is a reason, why there are few seers in the world, and why even those few rarely see the truth of events. The future hasn't happened yet. No events are set in stone."  
  
Neville frowned. "But prophecy."  
  
Harry smiled. "We do get glimpses, from time to time, of events already set in motion. I can't tell you what will happen, but I can tell you a great deal of it will be unpleasant and hard."  
  
"What a surprise," Neville muttered. He looked at the sword, then at Link. "So this choice."  
  
He nodded. "You now have to choose, between taking up this sword, and all the responsibilities that come with it, or leaving it, and your destiny behind. You'll fade away into history, nothing more then a name."  
  
"It is not a choice to make lightly, son." The seated, blond man said, taking his knight's hand. "Both roads have rewards, and both have pain."  
  
"Can't you tell me."  
  
The woman shook her head. "The choice is yours and yours alone. We cannot make it, for it is not our path."  
  
Neville moved closer to the pedestal and the sword. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his mind turning the choice over and over in his head.  
  
Take the sword, live by it, die by it, figuratively (or perhaps not). To take the sword meant to spend his life fighting. He wasn't a fool. Lucius was only a small problem in the grand scheme of life. There would be others behind him, picking up the pieces, struggling to take his place. There would be others waiting to fight Neville, to destroy him. It didn't sound like that great of a life.  
  
He didn't enjoy it already, waiting for the next battle, the next duel. The weight of his world resting on his shoulders. This wasn't his destiny, not originally. He was supposed to be in the shadows, but somewhere along the line, the shadows had parted.  
  
But could he leave the sword?  
  
Could he turn from it and walk away. Fade into shadow again and live his life, not fighting, not caring, just existing. He would be allowed to love again, without watching that love fail. He could be free. He would have no responsibility, save to himself. He could rest.  
  
No one would judge him, no one would hold it against him. After all, this wasn't his destiny, it belonged to a dead man.  
  
It was his choice. A choice between chains or freedom. If he picked up the sword now, he would never be free of it. There were no second chances at this.  
  
He stared at the sword, trying to ignore the feeling that it was staring back at him, waiting.  
  
He had made this choice before.  
  
He made it when he stood before Hermione, Ron and Harry when they were eleven and about to do something stupid.  
  
He made it when he was fifteen and stood up to fight.  
  
He made it when he was sixteen and swallowed his fear to become a solder for Dumbledore.  
  
He made it when he picked up the forgotten scroll and trapped Voldemort in a small wooden box.  
  
He made it every morning he woke up and faced the world around him instead of hiding in his curtained bed and sobbing.  
  
His choice never changed.  
  
He reached a trembling hand out and wrapped it around the hilt of the sword, swallowing. He pulled and with the grinding sound of metal and stone, the sword slipped free. A light flared around him again and he blinked. The ghosts were gone and he was once again in a draft, dusty ballroom, while those closest to him looked on.  
  
There was a long stretch of silence before the sound of soft clapping reached his ear. He turned to look at Link, his grip on the sword tightening.  
  
Link gave him a crooked grin, his hands dropping back to his sides. "Out of all the heroes who faced this test, not one of them has ever left the sword," he said, holding out his hand for it. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint me.  
  
Neville stared at that pale hand, outstretched before him, his grip tightening until his blood rushed away from his fingers, leaving them pale and white. A cry retched itself from his lips and he threw the sword with every ounce of strength and emotion, sending it flying across the room, clattering against the wall and floor.  
  
"I. Am. Not. A. Hero!" He ground out, ignoring the way everyone took a step back from him. His eyes locked on Link's and he gave almost a low growl. "You think this is a test, a way to prove myself worthy, this is nothing. I am a man. I am nothing worthy of greatness. I am human, with all the frailties that lie within. I am a person, struggling, fighting, and drowning. I did not ask for this, I did not want this."  
  
"But you."  
  
"Yes I passed your stupid test, I pulled the god damned sword out of the fucking stone. There is no other path. You say that no hero has left the sword, but that's because we have no other fucking choice. I am not a hero. I fight because I have to, because I am too scared to die. I am nothing more then a coward to stands in the way. Some call that bravery. But they are the same fools who look to a boy to embody all that they would also call good. I'm not a figurehead, I am not a monument, I am not a leader. I am just me, Neville Longbottom. I screw up, I fail, I trip and fall and more often then not land on my arse. The only reason anyone looks to me for anything is because I picked up a stupid piece of paper and read off of it. Because I walked out of this castle and returned alive. Because some idiot thought she saw something while smoking a pipe."  
  
Neville closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, slowly blowing it out. He repeated the gesture before opening his eyes and looking at Link again. "I have fought, and will fight, only because there is nothing left for me to do. And I will die, because I was stupid enough to stand in the way." He pulled the hood of his cloak up and spun on his heel, turning his back on his friends, striding away from them, from the room, from the stupid pedestal and sword. He paused in the doorway, resting a hand against the worn wood. "The world needs their heroes. They need to belive in what they think they embody. I understand that, just as I understand the reason they look to me for that title. And I'm sorry you have come here, looking for that man. But I am not he." He left the room, leaving the others to stare silently after him.  
  
*  
  
Neville sighed, rubbing his neck as he dropped his cloak on the floor of his sitting room. He moved past the armchairs and couch, nudging open the door to his bedroom, peeking in.  
  
Candle light fell softly into this room, barley piercing the darkness, a thin strip of it laying over the bed. He smiled softly, watching the man who slept in his bed, studying him.  
  
The other man was younger then Neville, barley fifteen, his dark black curls brushing over his boyishly handsome face. He was curled around a scarlet pillow, hugging it tightly. A book lay open next to him, turned to some ancient drawing.  
  
Neville moved closer, closing the book carefully, sliding a string between the pages to mark where the boy had left off. He pulled the covers up more around his guest, tucking them in, careful not to disturb his slumber. He brushed a curl away from the sleeper's face, his finger drifting slowly across the smooth cheek before moving away. Neville cupped his hand behind the last lit candle and blew it out, heading for the door. "Sleep well, Tom."  
  
*  
  
Harry drifted silently through the halls of Hogwarts, his mind turning over and over what Neville had said. He didn't notice where he was going, didn't pay attention to direction. He had gone this same path many times since returning here after his death. He knew where his destination lie.  
  
Neville had trapped Voldemort's.whatever in a box. But Harry was it's guardian. As long as Harry was here, haunting these halls, the box was protected. Or at least, that was the way it was supposed to work. Neither could truly die, as long as one existed, just as neither could exist together.  
  
He sighed, passing through the locked door, rubbing his temples. Voldemort, it seemed, had his revenge after all. The once Dark Lord could never be killed, and now Harry could never rest.  
  
He blinked, un seeing at the small table in front of him, the only piece of furniture in the room. Neville's words haunted him. Because the boy was right, he wasn't a hero. The destiny he now carried had been Harry's. The fight, had been Harry's to fight. Heroes weren't supposed to outlive their usefulness, but they weren't supposed to die before their job was done either.  
  
But Harry had died, and Neville stepped in his place. So the lines of Fate and Destiny had been re-written for another, and time moved forward.  
  
Harry shook his head, trying to shut up his inner voice. Things such as Destiny, Fate and Life confused him. They always had. It was easier, most of the time to put it simpler. The Dark Lord equaled Bad. Harry equaled Good. Thus Harry fought the Dark Lord and all was well with the world. It was easier to think of it that way.wasn't it?  
  
Shaking his head again Harry blinked, focusing on the table again. He frowned, blinked again and suddenly found himself several feet from where he was, standing right next to the table.  
  
The empty table.  
  
The table, that upon which should have rested a brown, wooden, slightly worn box. A box that contained whatever it was that made Voldemort. A box that was now missing.  
  
***  
  
Author's Note:  
  
Heroes (listed in order of speaking):   
  
Link  
Godric Gryffindor  
Lancelot (Arthurian Legend)  
Mulan (Chinese Heroine)  
Hercules (Greek Hero)  
Harry Potter  
King Arthur (Arthurian Legend)

Thank-you to Lady Rose for inspiring the "Hero's Test" and thank you to HPfGU-OTChatter for heroes.


	10. Battle

Chapter Ten: Battle  
  
How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself?--Barry Lopez  
  
"You promised me awnsers when I awoke," Tom said softly, watching Neville over the rim of his coffee mug. The younger boy was curled upon his chair, one of his knees tucked up between his chest and the table, his weary violet eyes blinking slowly, as if he were still half asleep.  
  
Neville shifted in his chair, biting his lip. "What do you know of what has passed?"  
  
Tom set his mug down, clutching his leg more against him. "Enough. The dead see everything after all."  
  
"Yes, but you were not dead."  
  
"No, I was cast aside, and that means I know so much more. I can feel him...inside me, apart from me. It's rather like having your soul ripped out, except I am the soul."  
  
"Then you should have your awnsers."  
  
Tom started slowly tearing apart a croissant, focusing on it as he struggled to put together everything. "You need help."  
  
"We need a lot more then help, but yes, that's the basic gist of it. "  
  
"But why me?"  
  
"Because you started this. Before he was born there was you, and now that he's gone there's only his legacy, which you started."  
  
"But I never intended..."  
  
"No, but you laid the ground work. Besides that, you're one of the few brilliant minds left in this world."  
  
"But I'm not a part of this world."  
  
"You are now."  
  
"Dark times are coming, Albus."  
  
Dumbledore raised his head, watching the blonde in the seat across from him. "They are here, Link."  
  
"My people will not follow you."  
  
"Then your people are fools. Already you are hunted down, both sides fearing you and yet you never take sides, never fight. Are you willing to watch the last of your race die off?"  
  
"We are already dead, we just don't have the sense to know when to lay down."  
  
"Then you will condemn your people, those you are sworn to protect."  
  
"I'm tired of war. I have been tired of it for centuries. I have long since laid down my sword."  
  
"Then why are you still here?"  
  
"Memories. I am haunted by those I failed because I could not accept who I was in time. Because I was not ready. I had hoped your hero would not make the same mistake."  
  
"He's not a hero, Link. He's a boy who should by every rights be off tending to gardens right now, not watching more die."  
  
Link stood, pulling his cloak more around him. "Then you will fall." He said before leaving the headmaster's office, his two body guards detaching from the shadows to follow him.  
  
Dumbledore watched him go silently before rubbing his forehead wearily, lost in thought.  
  
Lucius sat in at his desk, running a finger absently over his lips as he stared at the wooden box in front of him. His tounge slowly darted out, licking over his suddenly dry lips as he watched the candle light flicker over the smooth wooden surface, before raising his eyes up to the boy seated across from him. "What should I do with it, my little boat?"  
  
"Destroy it," Cotty said softly, rubbing his wrists. "It will not help you."  
  
"What have you seen?"  
  
"Death."  
  
"That is something you usually see."  
  
"Your. Death." Cotty said, flinching, waiting for the sting of a whip biting into his flesh.  
  
Lucius' eyes returned to the wooden box, a pale eyebrow raised at the boy's words. "You have a great gift,"  
  
"It is a curse." Cotty corrected.  
  
"But it is the only one you will receive. You will never have great magic, you will forever be a seer, without anything else to aide you."  
  
"Then why don't you kill me? You kill muggles."  
  
"Because I have use for you yet, and your cousin is strangely fond of you."  
  
"Only because he does not know, or else he would have a use for me too." Cotty said, slipping from his chair and curling up on the couch. "That's all anyone wants of me when they know."  
  
"So you want me to help destroy this new want to be dark lord, and then what?"  
  
Neville raised his eyebrow, watching Tom. "What do you mean?"  
  
"What happens to me when the threat is gone? Are you going to kill me? Put me back into Limbo to await judgment? In case you haven't noticed I'm rather alive right now. I breath, I bleed..."  
  
"Rather didn't think beyond bringing you here. What happens after will be decided then."  
  
Tom snorted, finally looking up at Neville. "How very Gryffindor of you. Though I must admit, Necromancy isn't something I would attribute to a wizard of Light."  
  
Neville stared out the window, biting his lip.  
  
Flashback  
  
Lightning flashed across the grounds of Hogwarts, lighting up two blonde heads covered in cloaks and smoke. The flash of light reflected off a pair of rain speckled glasses, the emerald eyes behind them blinking in the glare.  
  
Harry waved a hand, trying to dispel the smoke from Draco's fag as he leaned against a pillar that graced the front steps. "So, what exactly are we talking about here?"  
  
Draco looked over at Neville who was stairing up at the stormy sky. "We're talking about raising the dead," he told his boyfriend who looked at him sharply.  
  
"Not raising the dead, exactly." Neville corrected, shoving his hands into his pockets. "More of bringing back something that was lost."  
  
Harry pulled off his glasses and wiped them on Draco's cloak, ignoring the other man's glare at the action. He slipped them back on, rubbing his forehead. "Something that was lost...Neville we're not looking for Trevor."  
  
"No, we're looking for a lost soul."  
  
"A lost soul?"  
  
Neville nodded and coughed loudly, and quite fakly. Draco rolled his eyes and stamped out the half smoked fag, blowing out a last stream of smoke. "A lost soul, one that never died."  
  
"How...what?!"  
  
Draco smiled, slipping his hands into Harry's pant pockets, hugging his boyfriend close. "A soul that was born but never killed, cast aside if you will. Such an action would leave it in limbo, with all the knowledge and presence of mind. Reachable."  
  
"But, I've never heard of a way..."  
  
"You wouldn't," Neville said and glanced at Draco. This was the part they were dreading. The part that would rather freak out The-Boy-Who-Lived.  
  
"It's not a spell that...Dumbledore for instance would use."  
  
"Who would use it?" Harry asked softly, knowing the awnser.  
  
"Voldemort, Lucius..."  
  
"No."  
  
"Harry.."  
  
"No. Draco. I won't, WE won't."  
  
"Harry, not everything can be black and white. Not in reality, not in peace, not in war." Neville said softly, reaching out to touch his friends' arm.  
  
Harry jerked away from the almost touch, shoving Draco off of him. "No, Neville! We cannot do this. Things ARE black and white. We're good, he's evil. I'm not about to go muddling that up just so you can raise some ghost! It's wrong." Harry's eyes flashed in the next fork of lightning and Neville took a step back. "Alright, we'll talk about it lat.."  
  
"No, we won't. We're not them, we won't become them. I would rather die first." Harry said and turned on his heel, heading back into the school, leaving Draco and Neville to stair after him.  
  
Neville blinked and pulled back into himself and out of his memories, looking up to meet Tom's eyes who was watching him curiously. "Not all of us are Light wizards, Riddle." He said before standing and heading into his bedroom.  
  
Tom watched him go, sipping his coffee before shrugging and reaching for the paper the house elf had brought with breakfast. "Let's see what horrors await me," He said softly, opening it.  
  
Seamus pulled his cloak tighter around him as the wind rushed past him, chilling him, trying to pull him from his seat atop the battlements of Hogwarts. He heard someone moving closer to him, but didn't bother to look up, just stairing over the whole of Hogwarts.  
  
"It's a long way down," Percy said, hopping up onto the battlement, his feet and legs lacing through Seamus' anchoring them both.  
  
"I've got a bit farther to fall before I'll start to worry," Seamus awnsered, his foot brushing over Percy's calf, seeking contact even as it's owner refused to look up.  
  
"But how far are you willing to fall before you need wings to save you?"  
  
Seamus looked up finally, the sun turning his falling tears to diamonds. "How far is the bottom?" He asked, his voice choked.  
  
The two Death Eaters stared at each other for a long moment before turning back to the view of the grounds. "It's a hard fall," Percy said softly. "And it hurts."  
  
Seamus nodded, wiping the tears from his cheeks, wincing as the salty liquid fell into the open wounds on his wrist. Percy took his hand and pulled it closer to him, running a finger over the wounds, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Blood freely given is highly prized among our kind," Seamus said softly Percy shook his head and leaned over, kissing the wound, his tounge darting out, slowly cleaning the fresh blood from the wounds, tasting the boy next to him, savoring it.  
  
Seamus shivered and pulled Percy closer, kissing him deeply. A scream rent the air and both jerked away, stairing down at the black cloaked figures who strode across the front lawn.  
  
"So, Death Eaters have come to Hogwarts," Percy said softly and watched as Dumbledore stood on the front steps, his wand raised. He was casting but the wind tore the words away before the boys could even guess at them.  
  
Four more figures joined Dumbledore, their own wands raised and Percy had to force down the urge to spit on Professor Snape's head.  
  
Seamus gaped at the scene, disbelieving. Surely they weren't going to...not now. There was supposed to be more time. He wasn't ready...  
  
More Death Eater's appeared as did more students, teachers, refugees, even muggles stood next to Dumbledore, doing what they could...though Percy really didn't think that the rocks would do much damage to the advancing army.  
  
"And as Cinderella and her prince road off in the white carriage, the mice all ran after her, waving and cheer..." Neville looked up as the classroom door opened and he slipped a finger in the book of fairy tales, saving his place. He failed at forcing down a smile as Draco was suddenly attacked by a gang of toddlers and preschoolers.  
  
Draco shook his head and picked up his favorite, a young girl who had attached herself to him the day she arrived. He pulled gently on one of her braids before looking up at Neville, his smile slipping away.  
  
Neville stood, concerned and then shoved Draco aside, barley hearing what the boy said to him.  
  
"There's a slight problem at the front door..."  
  
"VAMPIRES!" Someone screamed and Peter jerked around, watching as the dark creatures spilled from the entrance of Hogwarts, some taking to the air, some merely clearing a path through the Death Eaters in a spray of blood. "What the hell..." He gasped before transforming, running like hell as two vampires killed Crabbe, blood spraying his fur.  
  
Link stood next to Dumbledore, watching as his brethren started in on the fight. He looked up at his old friend with a grim smile. "I think the choice to fight has been taken out of our hands," he said before unsheathing his sword, wading into the battle himself.  
  
Seamus watched, trembling, clutching at the stone next to him as the Death Eaters retreated under the onslaught of vampires that Dumbledore some how had unleashed. He was slowly relaxing, the thought of a near end to the sudden siege flowing through him when everyone seemed to freeze.  
  
A bath was opening up amongst the combatants and Seamus' heart froze as he stared at the small figure slowly walking up the lawn. "No," he whispered, tears starting fresh down his cheek as he watched Cotty slowly approach the headmaster.  
  
"Albus," Cotty said, in a voice that most definitely wasn't his own. "You surprise us," The boy glanced around him, watching as the vampires hissed, moving back from him. "Dark creatures Albus? They're not even human,"  
  
"We are far more human then you are, creature." Link said, blood plastering some of his hair to his cheek.  
  
Cotty sneered, an ugly thing on his angelic face. "You are not even a vampire, you have no status, no essence, and you dare call me a creature?"  
  
"I am a Fallen, which means I am more then a soulless being, which I belive is you're current status."  
  
Cotty sneered again and raised his arm. Snape moved to grab the boy while Ginny moved towards the Headmaster but neither were quick enough as a flash of green exploded from the slender wand in the boy's hands, the last sound of the Killing Curse floating over the wind.  
  
Dumbledore's eyes widened before the aged wizard slumped, nearly crushing Ginny. McGonagall screamed and grabbed Dumbledore's body, shaking him, tears flowing down her cheek. She actually slapped Snape when he tried to calm her down, continuing to shake Dumbledore's body, refusing to belive he was gone.  
  
Cotty made a mockery of a bow before fading from sight.  
  
Seamus almost screamed as someone touched his shoulder and he looked up into Percy's eyes. "I belive, Finnigan, that it's time to choose a side." He said before heading for the castle proper.  
  
Tom and Neville watched from Gryffindor Tower as Poppy levitated Dumbledore's body, followed back into the castle by Snape and McGonagall, leaving the rest to clean up the dead, and try to stop the vampires from destroying the bodies.  
  
"So this is what it comes to...a child."  
  
"This has to end," Neville whispered.  
  
"It will." Tom awnsered, stairing coldly down at the blank spot where the boy had stood. 


	11. Laying to Rest

**Chapter Ten: Laying to Rest**  
  
_Death is nothing at all.  
I have only slipped away into the next room.  
I am I and you are you,  
Whatever we were to each other, that we still are.  
  
Call me by my old familiar name,  
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used.  
Put no difference in your tone,  
wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow,  
laugh as we always laughed  
at the little jokes we enjoyed together.  
  
Pray smile, think of me, pray for me.  
Let my name be ever the household word  
that it always was.  
Let it be spoken without effort,  
without the trace of a shadow in it.  
  
Life means all that it ever meant,  
it is the same as it ever was.  
There is unbroken continuity,  
why should I be out of mind  
because I am out of sight?  
I am waiting for you  
somewhere very near  
just around the corner.  
All is well  
  
Henry Scott Holland 1847-1918  
Canon of St Paul's Cathedral_  
  
The funeral was attended by thousands, the front lawns covered with weeping mourners who gave their tears to a hero fallen. The last great wizard of their age. He had been a leader, a symbol. He had stood for everything that was good, pure, and light. And he was gone. And they grieved.  
  
The speaker was a ministry official, someone who had shown up to pay his respects, but was drafted into the job because no one else would do it. Who could say the final words for someone so great?  
  
Thousands attended the funeral for Albus Dumbledore.but two.  
  
Draco and Neville could barley hear the speaker as they sat on the battlements of the castle, sharing chocolate frogs and staring out over the Forbidden Forest. They knew what he would say, the words were always the same, a list of great achievements, laments to what a great man the dead was and how much he would be missed. Some words of encouragement to keep going, keep living, keep the spirit of the dead alive. And a reminder that the Ministry was always there for the grieving.  
  
In all the many funerals the pair had attended, the words had never changed, and probably wouldn't change even when they died. So Draco and Neville held their own service, with their own words.  
  
"I remember, when I was a first year, and was walking out after curfew. I literally ran into Albus on my way down the Charms corridor.." Draco said softly, eyes gazing off into the distance, seeing that dark night seven years ago. "He just smiled down at me, goddess he was so tall to me back then...and he handed me a Chocolate Frog before heading back on his way to the loo. No points taken, not detention...just a piece of candy and a smile. He always knew what we were up to, but let us go about it."  
  
Neville glanced down at the bit of paper he was tearing to small pieces, a tear slipping down his cheek. "I remember third year, when Snape got really bad. He asked me to walk with him...and I can't remember a word he said, I was so scared. But we must have walked miles around this school as he talked, and I remember thinking that things probably weren't so bad, that the world, wasn't so bad, if people like him were in it"  
  
"Fourth year...after the Leaving Feast. He asked me why I didn't stand and when I told him my leg had fallen asleep he just watched me for a moment, before nodding and saying that happened to all of us. He knew I was lying, but let it go. That was worse then telling me off."  
  
"Fifth year...DA. I felt honored to serve under his name. Granted I was also preparing to save my own life...but just the fact that it was "Dumbledore's Army"...I don't even think I would have served under Harry that willingly."  
  
"Sixth year...and the start of the war. When he asked me to spy for him, I was stunned for three days. Everyone, even my own house had given up on me, branding me a Death Eater and die-hard supporter of Voldemort. But Albus, he had faith in me. He asked me, after putting me in detention for cursing Hermione...to spy for him. I asked him once, why."  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"That he saw what I was, not what I could be"  
  
"What kind of answer is that?" Neville asked, laughing.  
  
"I have yet to figure that one out," Draco said, smiling as he lit up a joint, taking a deep drag. Neville took it from him and took his own drag, watching as smoke curled around Draco's lips. "I remember most, nights like these, when he would sit out here with us, and tell us stories of old. Hermione would always frown at us, bandaging up one wound or another, reading us the riot act for smoking whatever we chose to smoke. You and Harry would more than likely be locked at the lips, pausing only long enough for a drag before returning to fleshly pleasures. Seamus would be hitting on whatever young thing had caught his fancy while Dean glared, Ron would probably be sleeping, leaning against Justin...and through it all, Dumbledore's voice recounting old legends and humorous stories that would break up the tension and weariness. He always knew just what story would distract us, and let us simply be children again, listening, instead of soldiers, dying."  
  
Draco nodded, taking another drag, watching as the smoke curled up to clouds. "That's what he wanted most for us. To be children. I think it destroyed so much of him when we went to war...when we came back dead. I saw the twinkle die a little more with each body they brought in. I thought once, that it would dim completely.and never return...but it never did. Somehow he kept the hope."  
  
"I don't think a part of it could ever die completely. He was as much a child as we were. A part of him could never grow up, that's what truly made him a good man. Not his power, not his skill, not his knowledge, but that part of him that would never grow old, never grow up. You should have seen him with the preschool. They held him in such awe when he would come down and play with them."  
  
"I did see him once. He was playing hopscotch with the girls. I never imagined a hundred year old man could jump that high, but he did it."  
  
Neville smiled sadly and turned to throw the remains of the joint over the edge of the wall, pausing to glance down at the crowd below. "It looks like they're wrapping up, just a few more speakers left before they lower the casket."  
  
Draco glanced over, spitting down on a ministry official. "I can never remember the final words that they say over the dirt."  
  
Neville paused and shook his head, looking at Draco. "You know, I can't remember them either. It's been too long."  
  
Draco laid his head on Neville's shoulder, watching Percy and Seamus conversing in low tones. "The last funeral I attended was Harry's. It was raining...and I remember watching the rain fall through the ghost of my dead lover and pondering how freaky that was."  
  
There was silence and then a choked whisper. "I need him," Neville said, gagging on the words.  
  
Draco turned to look at him and pulled Neville close, rocking him slowly. "We all need him, Nev. We can't keep up this fight without him...but we have to. We have to end this. For Albus, for Harry. For all those who fought and died to keep our world safe. We need to finish what they started for the sheer fact that they deserve it to be finished. They deserve for their deaths not to have been utterly, stupidly useless. We need for their deaths not to have been in vain. So that we can go on."  
  
Neville just clung to Draco, sobbing, tears spilling from his eyes in such waves that Draco's cloak was soaked within seconds. Draco continued to hold him, rubbing his back, rocking him slowly, and letting him cry. Draco wished he could join Neville in grief, let the tears fall without halt for the friend they had lost. But Draco doesn't cry. He hasn't cried since they lowered Harry's body into the ground. He cried so many tears that day that a part of him dried up inside. There was just nothing left for him to give.

* * *

Tom's finger ran slowly over the wooden desk in front of him, sinking more into the large chair. The snores of hundreds of past Headmaster's surrounded him, and he could feel them watching him through their closed eyelids.  
  
He paused his finger in it's endless rubbing and flicked his wand, watching as a chessboard flickered into sight, the pieces still frozen mid move, free of dust, as if the players had only moments before stepped away from the game. It had been more than a game to them. A true battle of wills, as Dumbledore sought to save the one he had failed.  
  
He ran a slender finger over one of the black pieces and could hear a lost voice whispering to him.  
  
**Flashback-Tom's Seventh Year**  
  
"Your move, Tom."  
  
The young boy blinked at the aged man in front of him before looking at his pieces, directing one of them forward. His gaze flickered to his watch then back to the table, pondering his method of advancement.  
  
Hours passed as the two sat in silence, never exchanging a word beyond direction of pieces and reminders of turns. The clock finally struck the hour the boy had been waiting for and he stood, his hand sliding slowly from a piece. "I believe, our game is finished, Albus."  
  
Dumbledore looked up at his student and stood. "The game is never over, Tom."  
  
"Ours is. I leave tonight."  
  
"Are you not returning then?"  
  
"What more could these halls offer me? It was a nice try, but a simple game won't lead me where you want me to go. I never was good at falling into your direction." His gaze flickered down to the game in progress to make a point.  
  
Albus smiled, holding out his hand to Tom. "If that is what you see it as, so be it." He said, shaking the young man's hand. "Congratulations, Tom. You earned it these long years."  
  
Tom nodded and swept from the room, leaving Dumbledore to stare after him in silent reflection.  
  
**Present**  
  
Tom flicked his wand again, removing the Permanent Sticking Charm that left the pieces frozen. He rubbed his chin as he pondered the board before moving a piece, smiling softly. "Your move, old man," he whispered to the silent room around him, tears sliding down his cheeks.

* * *

Harry sat beside the tombstone, slowly picking apart the roses that the mourners had left, letting the petals drift slowly down over the covered grave. He sighed as he picked up a fresh one, tossing the stem over his shoulder and glancing down at the fresh earth, running a ghostly hand through the dirt.  
  
"You weren't supposed to fall," He said softly, looking back up at the dying horizon, watching as the bloody sun fell from the sky. "You were supposed to be immortal...just like Sirius." He sniffed and rubbed his nose. He drew his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on them. "What happens to the world when all of it's heroes fall?" He asked the night, which gave no answer.  
  
"You were my hero, you know. The greatest wizard I had ever known." He laughed softly. "When I was eleven I thought you had hung the moon...or conjured it. Then I grew up. And discovered you were a man. A human, who made the same mistakes as everyone else.  
  
"You would think, that a boy who was hailed as a hero, would know the truth. But I never did. Not until Sirius died. Then I realized that we all make mistakes, all turn a blind eye to things we really should see. But you were still my hero. You had faith we would win, even when we were losing. You gave me the strength to keep going, even when I wanted nothing more then to fall.  
  
"Why did you have to leave me, Albus? Why now? Why in a way that I can never see you again, talk with you. I thought...once...that at least when you died, we would be together. Two ghosts, forever haunting Hogwarts, talking about the old times, inspiring awe amongst the kiddies...but you never returned Albus.  
  
"I waited for you, you know. I waited by your body for hours, even after everyone else had given up all hope. I waited for you. Because I just knew...you would come back.  
  
"But you didn't. Haven't. So now I'm still here, waiting. While you're off doing whatever it is that the truly dead do.  
  
"So what now, Albus? What do I do now that I've lost everyone? When dad died...well I was too young to understand. I was too young to know what a father meant. When Sirius died...I knew what I lost, but not really, because he wasn't there, he was always on the run. But you, you were always there. Even when I didn't know it, you were there, watching over me, guiding me.  
  
"You are my father, Albus. You are the teacher, the healer, the disciplinarian, and the lover. You guided me, perhaps not through my first steps, but through my first years being who I truly am. You comforted me when I ached, and laughed with me when I felt joy. You held my hand when I needed it most, and pushed me away when I tried to cling.  
  
"You helped me to stand on my own two feet...and dusted me off when I fell flat on my arse. And now you're gone. And I can't tell you how much you truly meant to me. I can' t tell you how much I loved you, respected you, looked up to you, hated you, cherished you.  
  
"I can't tell you how many dreams I had where you were here to protect me forever...where we never grew old, and were forever in this school, a timeless moment without Voldemort or the war. Where it was peaceful and perfect."  
  
Harry laid his forehead against his knees, ghostly tears staining the legs of his jeans as he cried. "I miss you, need you, love you, want you...father" He whispered. "And you're gone."

* * *

Minerva McGonagal stared at the bed she had shared with her husband for little under a year. The covers were still turned back, waiting for them, his pillows slightly indented from where his head had last rested on it.  
  
The book, on the right hand table lay open, a cute bookmark resting in it, marking his page. A muggle-born had given it to him just before she died in the first war, whispering about how it reminded her of him. He had never let it go since then. Minnie can still remember the tear that gathered in his eyes whenever he looked at it.  
  
A glass of water stood, half full, next to the book, along with a small packet of Sherbet Lemons, her husband's favorite candy. A choked sob sounded in Minnie's throat as she gingerly reached out and picked up the packet.  
  
Her knees suddenly gave way and she landed hard on the floor, her shoulders shaking as she cried, clutching the packet tightly, nearly crushing the candies. Her long black braid fell down across her shoulder, tickling her cheek, making her cry harder as she remembered how much her husband used to love brushing her hair as they sat, relaxing.  
  
She cried, for all the things she never said to him, all the times she never kissed him, all the moments she never touched him. She cried for all the years that should have been left to them, all the years they had lost in a single instant.  
  
She reached out blindly and clutched at a pair of fading robes, pulling them around her, tears still flowing down her cheeks as she curled on the floor, surrounded by his scent, the feel of him still trapped in fading cloth, the candy packet clutched to her chest. And she cried on, long into the night.  
  
They had been married only a short time, but had known each other since she herself went to school here. In that time she had partaken in many loves, but few who truly touched her the way he had.  
  
And now he was gone. Gone, gone, gone, gone. Forever gone. And she was left with a stupid metal bookmark and a crushed packet of candies to remember him by. Those, and fifty-nine years of memories, a castle full of ghosts between them...and a bedroom that echoed in her mind.

* * *

Author's Note: Thanks to my new beta, Kid. In that respect, I would like to thank all the beta's who brought this story about, Sheryll, Jubi-Chan, K, Mary, and the other one I've forgotten. Now to just get some artists... 


	12. Moving On

Chapter Eleven: Moving On

_The faithful have betrayed before, why not betray again?  
For trust be constant changing: first pow'r, next fear, and then-  
Do you know your followers? How true do loyalties lie?  
'Tis easy to judge a foe, but a traitor- I dare not try.  
A friend ought to be reliable, but if they were proved not,  
Would there e'er be a day when the past could be forgot?_

Draco smiled at his lover as they stepped off the apparition portal. He took Neville's hand and gave him a small kiss before leading him down the bustling street of Diagon Alley.

"Where are we going?" Neville asked softly as he leaned against Draco's arm, enjoying the breezes that whistled past them. Spring was finally dawning and streets were filled with couples enjoying the warmth.

"First, we're paying our respects. And then...the night is ours." He leaned over and stole another kiss before leading Neville out into Muggle London and towards the Underground.

Neville traced the route with his finger and frowned, worrying at his lip. "St. Mungos?"

Draco nodded, pulling out a pack of fags. "He's finally been cleared for visitors."

Neville nodded, yawning, laying his head on Draco's shoulder as they took seats on in the car. An hour later he was gently shaken awake. Blinking, he raised his head and stood, stretching before following Draco to the Muggle entrance of the wizarding hospital. He trailed after the blond, trying not to remember coming here to visit his parents...or finding their bodies here.

The long term care unit was silent as it always was, most of it's inhabitants too far gone to make much noise. A bed in the corner held a sleeping man, curled around a stuffed Hufflepuff Badger. Pictures of family, friends from school, even a few Muggle Pounds rested on the side table, as if trying to call back the male.

The stuffed animal and the pictures reminded visitors of how young he was...as if you could ever truly forget. Seventeen. Younger then any who had stayed in this ward. Just a boy really. His parents had all but abandoned him here. Too heartbroken to see him. They blamed the wizarding world for what was done to him, while the wizarding world just tried to save what was left of his mind.

Draco and Neville took seats next to Justin's bed, Neville reaching out to take his friend's hand while Draco filched a Chocolate Frog from the drawer.

Neville's thumb brushed over the smooth skin beneath it, and he studied Justin's sleeping face, wondering what he would say to him if he was awake. 'Sorry about locking you up here, but we had to you know...after what happened to Abbot. Sorry the death of your wife made you insane...at least you got to hold her as she died unlike Draco. And at least Abbot won't grow up to visit you here every holiday.' No. None of that would do. So what did you say to a fallen comrade and friend who was still breathing? No words could bridge the gap that had sprung up between them, but Neville had to try.

Time passed both slowly and quickly for the three. Justin didn't wake up before their time was up so Draco left him a note that they had visited along with another stuffed animal, a Slytherin Snake this time. He bent down and kissed Justin's temple, Neville doing the same before they both left silently.

* * *

Dennis leaned against the wall of the dungeon, lighting a fag. He blew out a stream of smoke and glanced towards the barred door next to him. He hadn't done guard duty since the second war but here he was, back on duty. And this time he was guarding against allies of the fallen Headmaster.

The vampires that Hogwarts hosted weren't the friendliest of people and Snape had ordered them under lock and key until he could figure out what to do with them. Their leader hadn't been happy and Snape was still in the Infirmary healing from a sword wound to his stomach.

_"Little boy..."_

Dennis frowned at the barred door, blowing out another stream of smoke. "Go away." he murmured, turning back to the wall, trying to shake off the creeping sensation that had started crawling up his spine.

_"Come here, little boy..."_

Dennis moved closer to the door, shifting his shoulder as he still tried to dispel the feeling. He looked through the bars to see a young girl, around eight years of age, her long blonde hair curling down her back, shining against her black cloak.

_"I'm hungry..."_

"Not offering," Dennis snapped and the girl pouted before turning away, heading back into the darkness. She paused and looked over her shoulder at him. Dennis moved closer to the door, raising his hand, pressing it against a flat panel of stone.

The door snapped open just as Dennis regained his senses. A hand reached out and grabbed the front of his robes, jerking him through the doorway just as the door slammed shut.

Dennis hissed, the stones of the wall pressing into his back. The hand clenched tighter, nearly cutting off his air supply. He looked up into the deep blue eyes of Link, almost falling into them.

"Why. Are. We. Locked. In?" Link growled out.

"S...Snape ordered it. He's scared of you...what you are."

"And what are we, boy?"

"Vampires...murders."

Link released Dennis, watching as the younger male fell to the floor. "You know nothing then."

Dennis rubbed his throat, blinking up at Link. "Then what are you?"

Link froze, mid step. He replaced his foot on the floor but still didn't look at Dennis. Instead he stared down at the floor, struggling against the emotion that question stirred in him. "An idiot." he said softly.

Dennis raised an eyebrow, trying to stand up. "Nice to know, now if you'll excuse me."

"You think you know war, know pain...know sacrifice. But you are a child who knows nothing. You've watched men bleed and die, but you yourself have given nothing to this battle," Link said, freezing Dennis with his words. "I gave everything I am, everything I was. I was the leader of a nation...and I watched that nation fall because I made one stupid move."

Dennis turned, looking at Link. "You know nothing of what I've given to this war."

Link smiled, an empty smile that left his eyes hollow and pain filled. "I can see it in your face. You care more for what you can find between sheets than what you can find on a field of blood. You spent this war thinking about nothing more then getting laid." He strode closer to Dennis, reaching out and grabbing the boy's hand. "This is sacrifice," he whispered and Dennis gasped.

Pain, fire, blood, a forest, a young woman...bleeding. A blond baby screaming as the woman collapses to the ground next to the roots of an old oak tree. Another child, picking up the baby, carrying him home. A sword, gleaming in a stone pedestal, the blue handle flashing merrily as a heavenly choir sings. A blonde girl stairing at him as tears streamed down her cheeks. A tall, red haired man on a black horse, intent to kill him. Ruby, Emerald, Sapphire, gold...a volcano erupting, water choking.

A spider advancing as he struggled in a sticky web. The heat of the sun beating down on him, burning him as two guards argued over who got to kill him. A stranger, wearing his face done up in shadow. The sounds of a drum as ghosts from the past advanced on him, terrifying him. A dragon, lashing out with her tail, a young girl with red hair, playing a flute as a brown horse gallops. A golden triangle dangling from a beautiful blonde's ears as she laughed. The red headed man again, floating, killing, and laughing. A desert goddess rising above him, her palm out to welcome him.

A woman dressed only in vines, screaming, a tentacle of pure energy lashing out at him, a lizard trying to devour him, his friends dying as he slept, a mask wearing male dancing. An elderly woman telling stories of times long past. A blue creature dying on a sandy beach, so far from the love of his life. Two small fairies arguing, the giant gods of old rising up to protect them, his friends' wedding, seven young boys trying to make everyone happy. An old friend seduced to evil, endless blue expanses of Time rushing past him, changing him, shaping him.

The stranger with his face embracing him. The red headed man handing him a glowing arrow. The blonde woman standing in front of a crowd of millions, her voice raised in triumph. The sound of a bow string being drawn back. Screaming, blood staining a white dress, the woman falling, eyes wide, staring in horror. Pain, pain so deep it tears you apart.

Dennis gasped, stairing into Link's pain filled eyes. "What..."

"My sacrifice. My curse. All bound to one moment, one woman," he whispered, moving closer to Dennis. "I killed her, because I had to. Because I had to defend my people. I killed my wife because she held the key to the greatest evil our world faced." His lips were flush against Dennis' ear now. "I betrayed her...just as you will be betrayed," he whispered.

Dennis' body stiffened and then he screamed as he felt a piercing pain in his neck. The scent of blood filled the air, rousing the other vampires who came closer to watch their leader feed. They were all hungry, but this wasn't their meal.

Dennis slowly sunk to the floor, bringing Link down with him. Link pulled away as Dennis started to blink, fighting the darkness that was clouding his vision. Link bit his lip before kissing Dennis deeply, smirking slightly as the boy responded, even as he was dying. "I told you, you only think about what's between the sheets." he whispered as he laid Dennis back. He brushed a bloody thumb over the boy's cheek as Dennis eyes flickered again, slowly closing.

* * *

Neville leaned over, taking the last bite of Draco's ice cream before moaning softly as chocolate exploded across his tongue. "I don't think anything could be better than today," he said, smiling at his lover.

Draco smiled back and kissed him gently before unlocking the door to their room at The Leaky Cauldron. "So you enjoyed our first date then?"

Neville nodded, flopping back on the bed. "Everything was...perfect," He smiled again before groaning, wrapping an arm around his stomach. "Though I think a three course meal followed by two desserts was a little much." he mumbled.

Draco laughed and curled up on the bed with him, holding him close. "I couldn't resist spoiling you a bit." he said, brushing a lock of hair from Neville's eyes. "You deserve it."

Neville smiled, turning a bit on his side, kissing Draco softly. "Thank you," he whispered softly, staring into those grey eyes that made him slightly light headed. "I don't know what I would have done without you here."

"Survived," Draco said simply. "But probably not happily."

"Probably." Neville agreed before kissing Draco gently again.

Draco moaned softly at the small, gentle kisses Neville bestowed upon him and drew the boy closer, deepening the kisses a little at a time, working Neville into a slow state of arousal.

Neville purred softly as they kissed, un-buttoning Draco's shirt, easing it from the pale skin he most wanted to reach. Draco moaned more as Neville's mouth escaped his lips and down his chest, watching his lover, smirking. His. He rather liked that idea.

Lost in his thoughts it took a bit for Draco to realize Neville had stopped somewhere around his stomach. He frowned and tilted Neville's head up slightly...only to realize that Neville was fast asleep. Draco shook his head and rolled Neville onto his back before working the boy's shirt from his trousers and up over his head, careful not to wake him.

Draco soon had Neville stripped down to his boxers and tucked his boyfriend into bed, placing a gentle kiss on his temple, curling against the warm body, yawning as his eyes fluttered closed.

They jerked open as he shifted and felt something hard in his pocket. He reached into his pants and pulled out a small black box, setting it on the end table, patting it fondly before snuggling back down.

* * *

Lucius groaned, releasing the blond hair beneath his hand and fixing his zipper. Seamus stood, licking his lips, sitting up on the desk so he was eye to eye with his lover, rolling a round paper weight in his hands. "Where is our master?"

Lucius smirked. "Safe,"

"Why won't you tell me?" Seamus said with a pout, looking at Lucius from under his lashes.

"Because you're a foolish boy who is too easily seduced. Anything I tell you will be found out by Dumbledore within a week."

"That's not true!"

"No, it's not. It would be three days." Lucius said and watched cracks form in the paperweight before gently removing it from Seamus' hands.

"Then why am I still here, with you, if I'm of no use?"

"Oh, you're of use, my little leprechaun. You give perfect head and moan so nicely when I fuck you."

"So I'm just your whore."

"Obviously. That was the agreement."

"I wanted more."

"I didn't."

Seamus glared at him, his hands stroking the hilt of a dagger in a side pocket of his trousers."

Lucius sighed and leaned forward to kiss Seamus' lips, only to meet his cheek as Seamus turned his head. "Come on, my leprechaun. You know your use. You do what I need done," Lucius nuzzled his neck. "My deadly Irish angel." Lucius licked a long wet path up to Seamus' ear. "I need you again."

"Tough, I have rug burn."

"Not that sort of need, angel. I need you to go to Diagon Alley."

* * *

Smoke, thick, dark and choking floated over them, blotting out once pleasant dreams as they struggled to breath, gasping, jerking awake. A pale, glowing form stood over Draco, worried, pale green eyes watching. A hand covered his mouth and nose and he could suddenly breathe.

"H...Harry?"

Harry nodded and helped Draco sit up, removing his hand only for his ex lover to cough. "You need to get out, Draco. They set fire to the building, and all surrounding ones. They're after you and Nev."

"What? Why?"

"Pick a reason."

Draco hurriedly dressed, grabbing Neville's clothes, trying to wake the boy. Neville wasn't doing too well, his breathing labored and harsh. "Come on, baby. You gotta get up, we have to get out of here," He helped Neville sit up and pull on his pants just as flames started licking at the doors. "Come on, Nev." Draco got Neville standing and looked at Harry.

Harry was staring down at the black box on the nightstand sadly, a crystal tear sliding slowly down his cheek.

"Harry..."

Harry flicked his hand, the box flying across the room and into Draco's hand. "No time," Harry whispered. He looked at Draco before shaking his head. "Never time. Go."

The lovers disappeared with a pop, re-appearing in front of The Leaky Cauldron. Both boys were coughing heavily, staring up at the destruction that was The Leaky Cauldron. Fires burned everywhere, stinging the eyes and clogging the lungs. Residents of Diagon Alley started swarming around, ignoring the two half dressed wizards covered in soot. Ignoring them until a scream pierced the air. "DEATH EATERS!"

Draco and Neville whirled around, staring, trying to find the Death Eaters...only to find everyone staring at them, wands out. They both shared a look then looked down at the black skulls on their forearms. Draco and Neville's stared at them from hundreds of wanted posters, left-over from a time when the war was thick and any marked wizard was slated for death. "Fuck," Neville whispered.

"Not now," Draco murmured, his defense of making tasteless comments kicking in. Neville resisted the urge to smack him, but it was painful to squash.

"Bring up the wards! Keep them here! Kill them!" Shouts filled the air and Draco grabbed Neville's hand, giving it a squeeze before taking off.

"RUN!"


End file.
